


Heartsease

by madforscamander



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Demi Sirius Black, F/M, Fluff, Gay Remus Lupin, M/M, POV Remus Lupin, POV Sirius Black, Pan Sirius Black, Pining, Slow Burn, but what's new, jily, like it's so slow it's ridiculous, soft, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-06-16 09:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15433980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madforscamander/pseuds/madforscamander
Summary: While contemplating the consequences of coming out, Remus finds himself falling more and more in love with Sirius Black everyday.  Meanwhile, Sirius seeks out a new relationship, hopeful it will distract him from the one person he really wants, but knows he can't have.





	1. "What are you looking for?"

**Author's Note:**

> Remus struggles with sharing his sexuality, as doing so might lead to Sirius and James uncovering a secret crush he is not ready to share. 
> 
> From Remus' POV

The high-speed flashes of green and yellow flying by seemed to intensify the arc of the May rainfall, splattering the crowd with water straight in their still smiling faces. Of course, the players were much worse off, being occasionally caked with thick layers of mud after being pushed off of brooms from high altitudes, or having particularly thick droplets hinder their vision. But from his left, a constant voice rang in Remus’ ears, promising, “Rain games are the absolute best, Moony. It’s about due time we had a good rain game.” 

Remus did not mind the rain; if anything, he loved the sensation of its freshness, both in how it felt against his skin and how it left behind cloudless, crisp air in its wake. But despite the enthusiasm that overflowed in James’ delivery, there was no way he could imagine playing Quidditch in these conditions could be enjoyable in the slightest. Still, the energy was tangible; the Slytherin Beater who knocked a Bludger out of its path mere minutes after being pushed into a pit of dirt didn’t seem to be struggling under the weight of mud on his uniform, but thriving from the adrenaline the rain gave him. After the accomplishment, the Beater pumped his fist off and grinned in a way that made Remus feel like all the rain had evaporated from his face. James, the vocal crowd member he was, shouted at the feat, saying something derogatory towards Slytherin House before finishing with, in a rather apologetic tone, “Their Beater is pretty good.”

“Pretty good looking, more like it,” Sirius added. Remus looked over at Sirius, whose messy bun was two gusts of wind from falling out, and almost agreed, but settled for a laugh that he prayed did not sound as fake as it felt. Luckily, the sounds of swooshing rain and James’ scoff washed it out enough that Sirius never replied to it, but only continued speaking. “Almost as hot as the Hufflepuff Seeker, I’d say.” 

James responded without peeling his eyes or internal focus off of the game. “Eh, she’s pretty, I guess. No Lily, though—Dear Merlin! How the hell has no one scored yet?” 

The laugh that Sirius and Remus shared at his reply was small, but at least it was real. “You know, Prongs,” Remus began, an incredulous smirk plastered on his glistening face, “we all know you are desperately in love with Evans, but I do have to say that if you can’t keep your eyes off of Quidditch while you talk about her, you might love Quidditch more.”

As if his body knew Remus spoke the truth, James’ mouth only managed a small grumble while he continued observing the game with more seriousness than he took most school exams. But Sirius, Sirius’ expression was the exact opposite: a smile almost as wide as his face, twinkling eyes, raised cheekbones. Remus felt completely winded by it, as if he was one of those Quidditch players flying at a high altitude that made breathing a task rather than a given. The prominence of his naturally defined jawline was only exaggerated by his grin, and Remus wondered, for the briefest of moments, if James also thought Sirius was extremely–

“Oi! Moony! What do you think?” 

Once again, Remus found himself thankful for the weather, which he could blame for the pinkness of his cheeks if necessary, if Sirius had caught him undeniably scanning every facet of his face with excruciating detail. Remus blinked his eyes twice, feeling the dampness of rain between his lashes, before Sirius turned his way and Remus made eye contact, bravely seeking clarification.  
“The Hufflepuff Seeker,” he answered shortly. Remus preferred his annoyance over teasing knowingness, however. He had gotten away with the crime sans punishment. 

“Oh,” Remus said while gulping down the remaining presence of shock in his throat. “Yeah, she’s really pretty. Really nice… skin.” 

Even James, Quidditch-obsessed and intent on finding new strategies to improve his team for their next game, couldn’t deny himself erupting in laughter alongside Sirius at Remus’ comment. “Ya know, Moons, one of these days you’re going to have to admit to your own cravings,” he mentioned between staggered breaths. “Obviously, don’t like, objectify. But you can say that you like someone’s body, at the very least.” 

Remus forced out a laugh that was as uneven as James’ and Sirius’ breathing. But I’m not attracted to her body, he wanted to scream, scream loudly enough for the Ravenclaws sitting on the other side of the stands, separated by panting athletes and the thick stream of rain, to hear. He wanted to yell that confession but leave the honesty there, please, at just one confession and return to the normal monotony of sixth year. Because Remus didn’t exactly know if admitting he never felt attracted to the curviness of a woman’s hips was a key that would open the floodgates to other things, but other things he didn’t want to confess to.

Luckily, Hufflepuff barely missed scoring again when Remus knew he was expected to reply, causing an uproar that raged through the crowd and distracted Sirius and James from what they didn’t know. For years Remus had existed through this kind of careful footwork and fortunate coincidences, leading his friends off the scent, much to his relief. 

Even though Sirius never hid the cubic studs he wore. Even though James sat through a months’ worth of detention for publically punching Lucius Malfoy after he charmed Sirius’ flag pin into neatly organized patches of blue, pink, and yellow dust. Even though Remus opened plenty of doors and seen Sirius’ tongue deeply lodged in a boy’s mouth, and even though James only ever teased Remus about walking in on them, again, and not about what Remus had walked in on. Even though everything would be better than fine, would be filled with love and support, it wasn’t just about Remus being attracted to men. It was about which one he was attracted to, the black-haired asshole with graceful hands and an unholy smirk, and the possibility of him finding out through a relentless stream of questioning, and the certainty of how that would destroy their friendship to an irreparable point. 

Remus was getting ahead of himself once again, like always. He thought before his logic could get ahead of the train, usually in order to stop the train from running over him. Remus took a deep breath. He was at a Quidditch match with his friends, the Hufflepuff Seeker was pretty, and it was raining. That’s all he knew with complete certainty. And that the now infamous Hufflepuff Seeker had just returned, Golden Snitch in hand, angry Slytherin trailing close behind, mere seconds before the first Quaffle went through the Hufflepuff goal post. 

The crowd exploded in a combination of rage and excitement, causing Remus to barely be able to hear the commentator announce the Hufflepuff victory of 150 to zero points, which was some kind of record that left James absolutely flabbergasted beside him. He was an unmoving skeleton, all open-mouthed, and unable to take his wide eyes off of the quickly emptying Quidditch pitch. Sirius and Remus attempted to shake him out of this state of absolute shock for several minutes before a curly-haired girl in canary yellow came out and did the job within a matter of seconds. 

“James?” she asked. “You okay?” 

James looked at her rather indignantly. “Steph, do you just realized you won 150 to zero, which has never happened in the history of Quidditch? And you did it?”

She laughed softly, as if she was afraid of terrifying James back into his previous state. “I didn’t do it. We did. I wasn’t out there blocking every Bludger and running Slytherin into the ground with exhaustion. I just caught the Snitch. That’s all.” Each of the three of them to reacted to her response differently: James scoffed, Sirius chuckled, and Remus smiled, realizing that this girl with the “really nice skin” actually had beautiful skin, and a smile to match. Steph continued speaking before James seized an opportunity to disagree, inviting the entire Gryffindor House to celebrate alongside Hufflepuff for their tie in Quidditch points. 

For the first time in far too long, James’ face held an emotion of joy instead of one of shock, focus, frustration, or a combination of the three. “That sounds awesome. I’ll let everyone know,” he grinned, and Steph had a farewell smile on her face, before James’ continuation forced her to stay. “These are Sirius and Remus, by the way. Both also in Gryffindor.” 

“I know,” she said, still wearing that same look, trapped, but now projecting to all three of them, instead of just James. “We had Herbology together last year. I hope to see you guys tonight.”

She left in the same quiet simplicity with which she entered, confirming for Remus that the rain blurring the air between the two of them, while it masked her sweet smile and beautiful hazel eyes, did not hide any attraction towards her. And that’s why, when James turned towards Remus with raised eyebrows and a shit-eating grin, repeating Remus’ earlier line of “really nice skin” with emphasis on the “really,” Remus forced a laugh at the ground, trying to look flustered. But if there was something that Remus was flustered about, it was how the interaction with Steph left Sirius looking at Remus in the same teasing way as James, and Remus couldn’t handle being under Sirius’ gaze like that in the slightest. 

 

“I’m just saying that ‘Hufflepuff’ and ‘party’ seem like they don’t belong in the same sentence.” 

Remus cringed at the contrast between James’ buoyant voice and the smooth brass instruments that radiated from his record player, causing a clutter of incompatible sounds that echoed through their dorm room. Sirius sat, rather unbothered by the jostling, on the floor near a pile of James’ clothes that had once graced the man’s body but deemed unworthy during James’ vigorous process of considering an outfit from every possible angle in their full-length mirror. Therefore, the job of challenging James’ statement was left in Remus’ hands. 

“If you’re so convinced this will be a flop, why have you gone through your entire wardrobe looking for the perfect outfit?” Remus accused without looking up from the page.

While popping the collar of his flannel up, James responded, “Lily, of course. The entire Gryffindor House is going. And I want to look perfect. And I do.” 

Remus only allowed himself to cast a ghost of a look towards James, who spun in a delicate circle while Sirius wolf-whistled, basking in the faux attention. He looked handsome, at best. Not perfect. Perfect was too heavy a word, so heavy that when it is spoken, you could almost reach out and grab it from the mid-conversation air. Perfect was, in Remus’ humble opinion, saved for describing only the most methodically proven flawlessness, like having a test with no errors, sipping and savoring hot chocolate during an intimately shared sunrise, or, when Remus could admit it to himself, maybe even someone he knew he shouldn’t be describing with that term. 

But maybe just a glance was permissible, a sideways shy one as Sirius took James’ place and made sure his own outfit of a silver necklace, ripped, black jeans and a dangerously translucent white button down was enough. He smoothed down the fabric against his chest, and suddenly Remus wished those were his hands that got to brush against Sirius. Remus turned back into his novel quickly, scoffing into the worn pages, attempting to decrease his desire by turning it into irritation. As if Sirius needs to check. He could look good in a potato sack.  
“Are you really wearing that again?” James asked, interrupting his frustrated thoughts. Remus glanced down at his tan jumper and rolled up jeans, the outfit he did, in fact, wear to the Quidditch game, along with his beige Timberlands that were on the floor, still damp from the rain which would freeze his feet once he stepped outside.

Remus lowered his book slowly and redirected his focus at James’, so there was a stalled moment where his eyes and cocked brows were all that could be seen. Then, once the book was placed on his bedsheets, Remus wordlessly got up, reached under his bed, retrieved his white high-top Converse, slipped them on so his mattress blocked his feet from Sirius and James’ view, then, once they were laced up, stepped into Sirius and James’ line of vision.

All Remus said was, “Different shoes. Happy?”

Sirius’ laughter at the exchange made Remus’ heart pang a little too deeply inside of his chest. James stuck his tongue out at Remus, thankfully distracting him from the heat rising up on his face after having Sirius look at him for that long, and then walked towards the door and left. For a minute, Remus felt his hands beginning to shake, as he was in no state to be left alone with Sirius. Luckily, through the still open door, James wailed, “Hurry up, guys!” 

As they descended from the staircase, Remus drowned out James’ babbling about how he was going to be with Lily for the entirety of the night, focusing on calming his shaking hands, and he really could have, if it weren’t for James’ informing that caused Sirius to say, with accidental silkiness, “I guess it will just be us two, then, Moons.” Remus’ foot slipped and he almost fell down the steep decline of the dormitory staircase, really wished he did, to be honest. Anything to get away from Sirius as the preemptive heat of a heavy blush filled up Remus’ face. 

It was a difficult decision, but Remus chose to put all his energy in making a quick reply of “sounds great,” in a way that didn’t sound like he was gasping for air instead of fighting back against the painfully obvious redness on his cheeks. And so they kept trudging forwards, James bouncing on the Converse-clad pads of his feet and verbally dreaming up his nightly agenda with Lily, Remus trying to keep his head down at all costs, and Sirius putting his hair up in one of those godforsaken messy buns once more, young moonlight flashing against his studs and necklace.

Surprisingly, it was neither one of his friends that made Remus look up from the concrete that turned into dirt that turned into grass; a large firework of red and gold exploded over their heads, then separated into a “G” and “H” for each house, rendering an equally loud boom of applause from the audience. Once the clapping and arson quieted down, the area near Black Lake was still alive in sounds and colors, as flashing fairy lights strung about the trees changed hues to punctuate the beats of the loud music which was playing from some mysterious source. The laughter, dancing, and talking that ensued only intensified the sight.

“Yeah,” Sirius said with a tone that made the smirk on his face obvious without having to see it. “Hufflepuffs have no idea how to throw a good party.” 

Remus wasn’t sure if it was the fact that James was unable to be wrong about the Hufflepuff party, the fact the three of them couldn’t find Lily anywhere, or a combination of the two that placed a semi-permanent scowl on his face as they walked through the party. Other than Lily, James’ initial theory was correct: everyone from Gryffindor was there, even the first years, some of whom were trying to sweet-talk the pale-haired Hufflepuff bartender into giving them “just one glass” of Firewhiskey. Because of the rather immaculately realistic lion’s head that she wore as a headdress and, more obviously, it was Pandora they were talking to, Remus was surprised at the fact she didn’t indulge in the first years’ cravings. It was, therefore, all the more amusing to see the look on their faces when Remus got three glasses of Firewhiskey for himself, Sirius, and James in the middle of their pleading. 

“Oh, Remus, I think you’d honestly prefer this,” Pandora said while handing him a half-red, half-yellow mug, filled almost to the point of overflow. “It’s a play on this Muggle drink called Irish Coffee, where Irish whiskey is put in coffee with cream on the top. But, we prefer hot chocolate, so we make it with that instead. We call it Huff HC.” Without further hesitation, Remus took a sip, instantaneously finding himself obsessed with the drink. “It’s what got me through O.W.L.’s, if I’m being honest.” 

Remus smiled. “Why the hell haven’t I been to a Hufflepuff party before?” Pandora laughed and shrugged, turning back to the everpresent first years, obviously having nothing else to say. But a voice to Remus’ left answered instead, causing him to turn his body so quickly, he almost dropped the three drinks. 

“Because then we have to share the good drinks with you,” Steph retorted with a sarcastic tone that vehemently opposed her immediate reaction of making sure Remus’ grasp on the drinks remained steady. “And then you almost spill them.”  
Pandora wordlessly placed another mug of Huff HC between them, which Steph collected quickly to place between her still-smirking lips. “I’m glad you made it,” she said once the cup was lifted from her mouth. “I already said ‘hi’ to Sirius and James, who are waiting for their Firewhiskey, by the way.” 

Remus looked over at them, James’ wide hand gestures and Sirius’ unmoving body telling him that they were in some kind of meaningless fight. He chuckled before responding, “Yeah, they’re impatient, aren’t they?” He couldn’t resist taking another sip of his drink, rather haphazardly, after shooting the blow.

“Yeah. They couldn’t make it in Hufflepuff with that kind of impatience.”  
Remus had to remind himself he was swallowing a beverage, or else he would have opened his mouth and shot Huff HC down his chin at her remark. 

“That’s…” he trailed off, looking for something to say, but only being met with Steph’s cocked eyebrow. “That’s house discrimination, that’s what that is.” 

“We are those who are ‘unafraid of toil.’ That has patience written all over it.” 

“Well, it takes patience, to, uh, let yourself become brave,” Remus weakly responded, causing Steph to shake in laughter so vigorously he thought her drink might spill out of the two-toned cup. His heart felt dizzier than it should while watching her laugh, and, for once, he let himself not blame it on the alcohol, the alcohol that was taking the place of anxiety in his blood. 

Steph quieted down, looking at Remus with a glint of something new in her eye. “Contrary to what you might think, I didn’t come here to offend any house. I actually came over to, uh, ask you if you wanted to dance with me.” 

Relief hit Remus like a freight train. His mind unclenched, ceasing worry towards the curves and dips he was unsure of mere hours before, the handsome Slytherin boy that was so far from him, because he could do this, dance with a beautiful girl underneath beautiful lights to shitty music. He could find a way to rid his mind of James and Sirius– James and Sirius! 

“I still need to get my friends these drinks,” Remus started, “but then, yeah. I’d love to dance with you.” 

Either Steph both had the patience of a Hufflepuff and bravery of a Gryffindor, or she couldn’t feel the sensation on her skin due to the light wind and crisp air billowing through the party, but she blushed at Remus’ comment without any nuance of concern creasing her face, making Remus really wish he could blush, too. 

“I actually have an idea,” Steph said to Remus, before shifting her body towards Pandora, still stuck unsuccessfully swatting away desperate first-years. “Dora, would you mind taking these shots to Sirius and James?” The tiredness seemed to lift off of Pandora’s face as she mouthed a sincere “thank you” to Steph, finally able to escape the first-years for but a shining few minutes. Remus was taken aback by Steph’s cleverness. 

“That was really smart,” he said, worriless about his shock pouring through his voice as Steph was about letting her blush shine through the lights they walked under. 

“I almost got put in Ravenclaw, you know.” Steph was walking beside Remus, leading him towards louder music and more movement, and when Remus realized they were almost there, he was both thankful and angry she didn’t try and lead him over by holding his hand.

“Why didn’t you?” 

The shadows cast by the trees almost blocked out her slim smile. “I’m only clever when it helps me.” 

As they sat their drinks down at a cluttered table, as they approached the dance floor right when a slow song was beginning, as Steph questioned if it was alright with her eyes and Remus responded by putting his hand on a hip and the other on her shoulder, Remus wanted to let out a scream that would absorb the world and leave him alone at an empty party. Because Steph was so witty, endearing, more than just nice skin but had that, too. She let the pick ups and dips of the song ride into how she approached dancing to it, laughing while enthusiastically singing the lyrics of lighter parts while almost placing her head on Remus’ chest at others. She was fun and amusing and said all the right things, even if they weren’t right for Remus, and she was a girl with curves and more than just pretty skin and a smile to match and she shone almost as brightly as the moonlight they danced under and she was a girl but Remus couldn’t stop wondering what this would feel like with someone else, someone with a thicker necklaced with a silver chain, because when he touched her all he felt was fabric, no fire, while just the thought of dancing with Sirius made him feel like he had fourteen Huff HC’s, not a fourth of one. And Remus wanted to scream.

The dance took too long, left him breathless in the worst form of the phrase. Steph sensed it, too, and that was the worst part. He could feel her asking if he was okay as he glanced back towards James and Sirius; James, who was gone, probably with Lily, and Sirius, who was drinking another glass of Firewhiskey with a look as intoxicating as his drink on his face. His soon empty cup was handed to a tall figure, who spoke shortly with Sirius before leaving him alone, with crossed arms and a complacent gaze. The stature was so lacking in Sirius’ regular energy, his regular openness, something hot hit Remus’ chest, almost taking him down to the floor. 

“Shit, I forgot, I told Sirius I’d hang out with him once James left with Lily,” he told Steph with concern not towards his lie but not knowing if the person that just approached Sirius was someone he could trust. 

Steph, of course, in all of her unfair perfection, smiled and let Remus leave without a thought. So Remus had to invest all of his energy in not outright running to Sirius, who looked so concerningly complacent.

The smile Sirius greeted Remus with was weak and almost drunken. “Hey! You finally took James’ advice! She’s a beautiful girl, Remus. You should feel really lucky.” 

Remus held back another scream. In attempt to rid some of the frustration bursting through his body, Remus took both of his hands and stroked them down the back of his neck. “I… I don’t even know if I like her.” Lie. “I just really don’t want to date right now.” Lie. “I need to leave, Sirius.” Finally, a true statement. Remus almost felt proud despite the circumstances. “Are you coming or staying? I don’t care.” Lie. So close to getting better, too.

“Yeah, I’ll come,” Sirius said while getting up, limbs flying in all directions before he managed to balance on two feet. Seeing his obvious incoordination and slightly slurred speech, Remus took an automatic position as the support, letting Sirius lean on him far too close for comfort as they made their way back to the Gryffindor dormitories in the pale moonlight. Once Remus finally felt able to breathe without it manifesting as some embarrassing staccato stutter, the inhale almost knocked him out. Because even though Sirius half-reeked of whatever combination of drinks he had consumed, Remus still caught a whiff of that horribly expensive coconut conditioner he used as his bun came undone, and shit, why was Sirius allowed to smell nice when he was drunk? 

The record was still whirring when they returned, generating a scratchy noise that made Sirius yelp. “I know, I agree,” Remus laughed knowingly. “I’ll turn it off once I get you a pillow and a blanket.” And by some grace of God, Remus was able to lay a foggy Sirius down onto the floor, still wearing shoes and all, so he could make it to the record player whilst Sirius’ complaints of “come back, Remus” rang at a higher pitch than the record player scratches ever could. 

Remus pinched himself on the wrist after his heart swelled at Sirius’ constant begs, at Sirius saying his name so sweetly it could give someone a stomachache. He huffed angrily, wanting to switch records, but settling with replaying the same one, just so his pathetically confused body could lay next to a Sirius who wasn’t even sure what he was asking Remus to do. 

After unfurling the blanket and letting it settle over Sirius’ curled up body, Remus laid down so his head was next to Sirius’ pillow, but the rest of his body was pointing the other way, and, goddamnit, Sirius was even gorgeous from upside down. 

His exhales were doused with alcohol. Remus knew from personal experience that Sirius’ breath had been heavier with scotch or whiskey or brews before, that he probably wouldn’t need to get a bin for Sirius, but Sirius definitely would only remember the events of the night with a fuzzy blur. And maybe it was the knowledge of that perfect balance that lent Remus more safety tonight than any, or maybe it was him being overcome with the fact he felt more laying next to his best friend than with his hand on a girl’s hip, or maybe he was tired of pretending and just needed one moment of exhalation before he could definitely figure things out. So he found himself looking at the ceiling, asking Sirius, “How did you know you were pan?” 

Sirius rolled about the ground so his head was facing the ceiling, alongside Remus’. “I was so young, I almost don’t remember.” He laughed, but only for a beat, before killing the sound starkly. “I guess, like, gender didn’t matter when it came to people I found attractive. Regulus, he always talked about girls so much. It was just girls and girls and girls. Like James with Lily. But I felt like I was lying when I agreed with him sometimes– well I technically was. By omission, anyways. But you know when you can feel that? When you agree, even though you know you’re lying?” A chord struck deep within Remus’ chest which he wished was due to his favorite song on the track beginning to play. “And I felt like there was another part of my attraction that I wasn’t talking about that I wish I could. And I think that initial want, that’s what made it clear. Like I wanted to say something like, ‘dude, have you fucking seen Fabian Prewett lately? His ass could cure world hunger.’ Yeah. Talking with Reg was a big influence, I guess.” 

Remus gulped, trying to push away all the times he had agreed with James on how hot a girl is while imaging Sirius’ lips. “Were you ever, like, unsure of it?”  
“Unsure? No. I mean, my mother beat me on the head with a stick and tried to force me to reconsider. ‘It’s not a pureblood thing to be gay,’ she’d say. So I’d say, ‘well then let’s hope I marry a woman, because I’m pan.’ But I always knew on some level, as they say.” 

“As who says?” 

Sirius chuckled, not letting this one die prematurely. “You. You say that all the time. ‘I knew, on some level, that lighting a bench on fire would equate to exactly three months of detention,’” Sirius said in a slightly deeper tone, mocking Remus, making him smile. “‘These two characters in my book finally kissed. I knew, on some level, they’d get together. And I was right, of course, because I’m Remus.’” Sirius laughed and laughed, and Remus wondered why he had a record player on when there was music right here, next to him. 

“I-I’m not always right,” Remus said, hoping that a buzzed Sirius wouldn’t understand it the depth of the confession. 

“Oh, _please_. Show me a test of yours that didn’t have perfect marks and I’ll believe you.” 

“But that’s just studying, Sirius. There’s more to life than that. And all those other parts, relationships, girls, emotions…. I’m usually wrong about those.” 

Remus heard Sirius’ hair skim across the pillowcase as Sirius turned his head towards him. “Steph is pretty, though. And really, really cool.” 

Remus breathed deeply, hoping the fresh set of oxygen would inspire him to say something that would help him, not continue building up this wall between him and Sirius and James he had been constructing ever since he started questioning who he was really attracted to. “I don’t want to date her, though. We just, we just don’t click like that. She’s not what I’m looking for.” 

“What are you looking for?” 

“Someone who I feel safe with but also, you know, makes me feel all dizzy inside.” 

Sirius nodded into the pillow. Remus tried not to imagine who made Sirius understand that contradiction. ho“She’s really hot though…” 

Remus gritted his teeth, clenched and unclenched his jaw and fists, before answering, as nonchalantly as possible, “It doesn’t matter.” 

“I’m just saying she’s hot. So is Alice, if you saw her walk in with Lily.” 

Out of anger, desperation, a flash of jealousy Remus did not want to indulge in, Remus felt himself almost screaming, “Dear Merlin, Sirius, will you stop talking about girls!” But he sucked in the words right when they were at the threshold of his lips, an indescribable emotion blazing through every crevice of his body and soul. 

Because, for the love of all things holy, wasn’t that what Sirius had wanted to say to Regulus? When he was deep in hiding but knew, knew with the most certainty, he wasn’t straight?


	2. "Goodnight, Moon"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Sirius' POV

Sharing a small piece of parchment between the two of them, James and Sirius’ hands seemed to be playing bumper cars, colliding perpetually and causing unwanted trails of ink to line across a detailed blueprint of the Slytherin dormitories. Paired with the dry and stuffy heat inside of his classroom, Professor Binns’ montotone lectures typically lulled Sirius into the most restful sleeps of his life, filled with dreams of Pumpkin Pasties and soft leather jackets and a tall, brunette boy kissing him tenderly. It wasn’t Sirius’ fault that History of Magic always seemed to fall during the time of day where the sunlight streams through the tall windows in the way that casted a glare upon the room that made his eyelids feel heavy while simultaneously warming his robes. And it wasn’t his fault that Remus, bless his soul, wanted to get a NEWT in the most boring subject ever invented, forcing Sirius and James to take it, as well. But today, James seemed intent on finding the best way to arrange an explosion of red and gold fireworks to go off in the Slytherin Common Room when–“not if,” according to James– Gryffindor defeated them in the final Quidditch game of the season, giving Sirius a reason to keep awake. But if Sirius were to be honest with his heavily beating heart, the careful glances at the disheveled caramel hair and broad shoulders that sat in front of him were reason enough to keep his eyes open, so he could just look and look and look at that small freckle at the base Remus’ neck without the attention seeming out of place.

“Could we, like, make the explosion in the shape of a lion’s head?” James asked while rubbing the crease on his forehead with his free hand. “Or we can spell out Slytherin in big, capital letters, send a rocket shooting through to destroy it, and then have all the letters in Gryffindor pop out. Is that too much?”

Sirius didn’t notice he was staring until James interrupted his thoughts, and Sirius realized he had to look down to see the top of his quill, not up. He stuttered for a minute, trying to recall what James had asked through his series of cluttered, crossed-out sketches. Sirius pretended to be considering the options, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand, feeling the few strands of hair that had fallen from his messier-than-usual bun, instead of trying to figure out what the options were. Knowing James would like his own ideas, Sirius merely repeated one he recalled with perfect clarity: “Maybe, have the one that crosses through end with the lion head instead?”

“YEAH!” James nearly stood up out of the wooden chair in excitement, the combination of his near-scream and the screech of the chair against the floor turning every head towards him. Professor Binns even faced them, the approach slow-motion in that way only ghosts can accomplish, looking at the pair of them with a new level of indignation in his translucent eyes.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, is there something you wish to share with your classmates?” Binns asked. From a few feet away, Remus cocked an eyebrow at the pair of them, using the quizzical accusation to try and hinder the smirk Sirius could tell was forming on his face. Sirius had a feeling, however, that if he looked slightly to the left, where Lily was sitting, he would be met with an expression more similar to Binns’. 

“Uh… well, you see…” James began, gesturing with his hands, as if he knew what he was saying next and would do so with dramatic flair. He must have readjusted his glasses some three or so times before Remus spoke.

“Professor, if I may,” he said in a tone overflowing with such politeness it was difficult to think he was resisting a smirk seconds earlier, “I heard them talking. James was just confused, Sirius helped him understand, and that’s why he got so excited.” 

Though Professor Binns lacked bones, something in his expression softened, in that way only Remus could make people melt solely using words and– Sirius was guessing– an innocent smile. “Is this true, gentlemen?” Binns inquired, gentler, Remus’ tone rubbing off on him. 

Afraid to return to James’ publicized glasses-readjusting stunt, Sirius spoke before he got the chance to. “Yes, sir. James just didn’t want to say so because he was embarrassed to be wrong.” James waved his arms in a wild surrender, nearly knocking his ink down but missing by mere millimeters. Taking that as affirmation, Binns returned to his stack of notes, and Sirius could hear the transition his voice went through from disciplinarian back to lecturer, emotion to dullness. Suddenly, the room felt very warm again, almost too comfortable to keep his eyes open, and Sirius probably could have fallen asleep, if not for the small thumbs up Remus signaled from behind his chair which caused a flood of energy to surge through Sirius. Clever Moony, he scoffed to himself.

In order to get an adequate amount of planning done without getting caught once more, Sirius and James scribbled notes to one another on the back of the parchment. boy, Moons really saved us there. We’re lucky to have him here, James wrote.

Sirius gave a silent thanks to whatever God was looking down at him at the moment– or to Satan for ceasing Sirius’ bad luck– for keeping James’ focus downward, keeping him oblivious to the affection he could Sirius could feel heavy in his eyes as he wrote, yeah. we are.

Class ended too fast, somehow, as Sirius and James were in the middle of an argument about the best way to split the letters of ‘Slytherin’ in half when they were excused. The deep-rooted knowledge that his idea would work better, mixed with James’ equally unrelenting opinion, made Sirius almost miss the tall shadow that was cast from the other side of the table. It didn’t help that the person the shadow belonged to stayed silent for a minute or so, before laying his pale finger atop the ‘Slytherin’ written in large, lopsided, capital letters, and saying with annoying casualness, “Just charm each letter’s firework to split a millisecond or so before the next one. You don’t need the firework that shoots through to do anything else, then.” 

“Yes! Thank you, Moony,” James said, quickly noting that next to the ‘Slytherin’ in even worse handwriting. “Now, we can eat in peace.”

Sirius didn’t mean to be looking at Remus, again, but he couldn’t resist watching the proud beam that spread across his cheeks. Too soon, he turned around to begin collecting his belongings, and Sirius realized he should probably begin doing the same if he was to avoid being questioned into exposing his rather large, rather inappropriate, rather embarrassing secret. But, out of a habit he had developed since third year, Sirius continued watching Remus out of the corner of his eye as Remus’ calloused hands packed away his belongings with meticulous care. Meanwhile, Sirius opened his bag and swept his books, quill, and hopefully closed ink bottle into the darkness.

Lily had wordlessly stayed nearby, and decided, after relentless pleading from James, to sit with them at dinner. “You won’t regret it, Evans,” he promised as he led them out of the emptying classroom. Sirius sighed, wishing that James would stop bouncing on his feet through the corridor, as it made it so painfully obvious that he was ecstatic about Lily’s decision. But, when Sirius looked down at the girl, whose cheeks were slightly flushed pink and lips were trying to not give away a smile, Sirius realized, maybe she didn’t mind at all. He nudged her with his shoulder, and Lily glanced up at the knowing smirk on Sirius’ face, causing her to collide with his arm with a more aggressive force.

“Calm down, Black. It’s just dinner,” she said. Regardless of her apparent disinterest, the expression on her face told a different story, one that kept Sirius’ eyebrows raised all the way to the Great Hall.

“It’s so obvious, Moons,” Sirius whispered into Remus’ ear. The unexpectedness of it made Remus jump a little, made his simply reply of “What?” rather breathless. Sirius smiled while clarifying, “Lily and Prongs, of course. They ought to just get over themselves and start dating. They’re both obviously in love with one another.”

“Yeah,” Remus chuckled, his gaze still down at the floor. Sirius almost outwardly yelled at him to look up, because Sirius really wanted to see the way Remus’ eyes lit up while he laughed, warm with the slightest hint of deviousness. But it didn’t matter, anyways, the way these simple actions made Sirius’ heart feel like it was constantly partaking in a high speed broom chase.

Because even if Moony was gay, gay in the slightest or gayer than Sirius himself, that wouldn’t alter the fact that they were best friends and that there were lines that came alongside best friendship. Maybe James drunkenly kissing them on the cheeks wasn’t crossing it, or Sirius refusing to wear more than a towel around his waist after showering wasn’t crossing it, or Moony feeding them by hand wasn’t crossing it, but Sirius declaring his undying love towards Remus was. So he had to settle with looking, casually touching, daydreaming.

Busy torturing himself with these unwanted truths, Sirius hadn’t even recognized the four of them had already entered the Great Hall, full of robes and chatter and succulent smells. Quickly, James found a seat at the Gryffindor table, ushering Lily to sit besides him while Sirius and Remus sat across from the pair.

“So, what did you two do last night?” Sirius asked while spooning a heaping pile of shepherd's pie onto Remus’ plate before doing the same on his.

“I did a body shot off of James,” Lily said while casually slicing into a fried sausage. Sirius’ reaction was quite the opposite, as he nearly spat a mouthful of pie into his Pumpkin Juice. He gulped down the bite, thankful that he was able to calm himself down before he inevitably imagined lapping up liquor from Remus’ stomach.

Remus cleared his throat before saying, still quite hoarsely, “I think it’s safe to say it’s time to change subjects.” James and Lily simply laughed as Sirius smiled weakly. Amused but still working on regaining his composure, he was distracted by a voice beginning to speak behind him. A voice that sounded familiar and brought back the image of bright fireworks and the taste of burning Firewhiskey. Sirius turned, needing to see the face that was paired with the voice that just said his name with obvious uncertainty. It was long with a broad forehead, unsure smile, and eyes whose slight gleam looked held back, like he was afraid of something. But they were familiar, he was familiar, and suddenly a string of letters began forming in Sirius’ throat.

“Ollie, right?” Sirius asked, turning his body towards the tall Hufflepuff. Ollie nodded, smile growing at Sirius’ ability to remember him, and Sirius felt his own grin beginning to grow. “Sorry for having to ask. I was pretty wasted last night.”

“That’s why I came over, actually,” Ollie admitted, busying himself by straightening the cuffs of his robe. “I wanted to make sure you got back alright, since I didn’t see you at all after I went over to the bar, and you were, as you said, pretty wasted.”

Some light and fluttery feeling should have manifested inside of Sirius’ chest at Ollie’s words, the same kind that usually occurred after Remus accidentally brushed his hand against Sirius’, or when Remus laughed at a joke Sirius made, but nothing did. Sirius made some unceremonious reply and gestured at the same time, but didn’t really register what he was saying or doing, too busy getting ahead of himself, realizing that though he had finally found someone who could distract him from the excruciating, fruitless, foolish love he felt for Remus, it wouldn’t matter if his heart didn’t pound for that other person. What he did hear, however with perfect clarity, was Ollie’s next question: “I was wondering if you would like to come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” It was simple, hopeful, and Sirius wished he could return such gentle enthusiasm.

Out of some reflex, Sirius turned back towards his friends for approval.James and Lily carried on an artificially loud conversation to mask their obvious eavesdropping on Sirius and Ollie, and Remus, whose vacant eyes met Sirius’ bright ones, neither denied Sirius of his wordless question nor offered any kind of approval. The look seeming so unlike Remus, Sirius almost asked him for permission to go out with Ollie. Rather than face the assumptions such a question would lead to, Sirius refrained from following through with his initial reaction, instead turning to Ollie, who was still shining with optimism.

“Yeah, I’d love to go,” Sirius replied. He wasn’t lying because the words didn’t feel wrong when they passed through his throat, like all those times James had asked if Sirius was into someone and he said no, or all those times Remus asked, after a full moon, who could ever fall in love with a werewolf, and Sirius said anything but, “me.” No, this was not a lie. But the way his heart constricted once the words were out in the open made Sirius feel as if it was one.

Ollie nearly jumped up, causing Sirius to smile brightly. “Great,” he said, grinning so widely it took up the entirety of his face and Sirius ached to return the warmth. “I’ll meet you by the fountain at 11?”

“Sure,” Sirius replied, wishing, as Ollie walked away, that phrase did not perfectly express his too-low level of excitement, wishing he wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for the rest of the day. He probably could have, really, if he wasn’t met with a smirking Lily and James when he turned his body back around to his now cold shepherd’s pie.

He forked through the pie on his plate, suddenly finding it unappealing. “What?”

“You have a date,” James snickered, leaning back and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Sirius huffed out a breath, shaking his head while searching the table for something that looked appetizing. He settled for a cornish pasty, grabbing it slowly, considering it even more tediously– anything to distract him from his urge to see if Remus was still wearing that look of cold discontent on his face. “It’s neither here nor there,” he replied, setting the pasty down before cutting it in half with his knife. He raised the first half up, opening up his mouth to bite into it, before Lily stole it from his hand.

“Are you not excited?” she asked. Sirius extended his arm across the table, not caring his robe sleeve was dangerously close to dipping into his Pumpkin Juice, as Lily kept retracting the pasty further and further out of his reach. “Don’t play him, Black.”

Sirius took a minute to consider the stern look of warning on Lily’s face, with pursed lips and unblinking eyes, hoping she could see the exasperation in his. He was excited, of course he was, and he knew it for a fact. But he also knew that some piece of his heart was, throughout this entire process, going to be unwilling to move on from Remus, regardless of how handsome and kind and sweet Ollie promised to be. It happened with everyone else he had met for the past three years. Why would Ollie be any exception?

Saving Sirius from saying something he might regret, James shouted, in a way shockingly similar to how he screamed in History of Magic earlier that day, “Shit! I forgot about Quidditch! I’ve got practice for the Slytherin match.” He vaulted over the bench, grabbing the pasty half from Lily’s grip and sliding it into his robe pocket. “See you guys later!”

“He really is an idiot, you know,” Remus said, and Sirius almost felt like getting up and hugging James for making Remus speak again. Lily laughed, too softly for the tension that remained, brushing her hair behind her ear. She looked between the two of them, glancing back and forth and back again, and Sirius’ exasperation still remained heavy on his face, regardless of how amusing James’ departure was.

“How about we go to the common room?” she suggested, getting up before waiting for their responses. Although Sirius had yet to finish any part of his meal, he followed, his loss of appetite strong but fear for Remus’ reaction even more intense. Because Remus and Sirius were still unwilling to speak to one another—Remus out of anger and Sirius out of fear—Lily settled for asking easy-to-answer questions about James, ones Sirius assumed she already knew the answers to, for the sake of maintaining the casual air of their conversation. The walk to the common room took far too long like this, next to Remus but still feeling so far away, trying to smile at Lily’s comments on Remus’ answers but struggling with following through with the reaction, too aware of the sound his shoes made as he walked along the wood, then the stone, then the carpet of the common room.

Remus took his regular position on the long couch facing the fireplace, finding his book on the side table right where he had left it that morning and opening it up to read, or leaving the usual fraction of space where Sirius could sit. Disheartened, Sirius took a seat in the armchair besides Lily, who smartly asked him to braid her hair. She hummed a few tunes Sirius was familiar with and a few he didn’t know as he combed through the red strands with his fingertips, separating sections to braid. The distraction didn’t last long enough, naturally, and before he knew it Sirius was casting another longing glance towards Remus, Remus who was asleep with his arms up by his face and his book lying atop it.

“He’s not that angry, you know,” Lily said. Her voice was so soft the crackles from the fireplace almost covered it up. “I’m not exactly sure what he was feeling, but it’s Remus. He can’t stay mad at you for long, anyways.”

Sirius looked over at her, and she was wearing that smile only she could wear believably, that was small and warm and understanding while still not knowing all of the answers. “Would you help me get him into bed?” Sirius asked.

Lily nodded, and they got up together. Before he did anything else, Sirius grabbed the book and marked the page Remus was on, setting it down on the side table back into place. As Lily grabbed his legs, Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus’ chest, digging his right arm between the sofa cushion and Remus’ robes so he could face Lily, ensuring they would both lift Remus up at the same time.

“Go,” Lily said, and she and Sirius had Remus in the air haphazardly, making a scrambled and somehow painless trip up the stairs. Lily nudged their door open, and the silence they were met with making Sirius feel somehow even more uncomfortable. But, without the willingness or energy to say anything to Lily, they progressed forwards and did their best to not merely plop Remus down on the bed, but place him.

“I’ll take it from here,” Sirius said once Remus was laid down. “Thanks, Lils.”

“You’re welcome,” Lily said, shutting the door behind her, leaving Sirius and Remus alone. Sirius exhaled deeply, not realizing how much tension he held in his chest ever since Ollie asked him out, and glad to finally release it. He began with taking off Remus’ shoes, carefully untying them and slipping them off of Remus’ heels in the most gentle way he could manage. Once both were off, Sirius put the Converse in the one empty spot under Remus’ bed, finding it in him to smile at Remus’ relentless organization. He then pulled the covers up, almost to Remus’ chin but not quite touching, knowing that’s how Remus would do the covers himself. It must have been the jolt of the bed that shook Remus awake, as when Sirius was just beginning to tuck him in, he heard a soft calling of his name.

Too abruptly, Sirius turned to face Remus, the accidental acceleration causing their faces to end up only inches apart. Remus’ eyes were struggling to stay open and he visibly resisted the urge to rest his head on his pillows.

“Don’t worry, Moons,” Sirius assured him. “I’m just tucking you in.”

“‘Kay,” Remus breathed, letting his eyelids flutter shut and his cheek fall onto his pillows. If it wasn’t for the depth of intimacy the gesture contained, so tender it clearly crossed the line, Sirius might have leaned down and pressed his lips against Remus’ forehead. Instead, Sirius went back to tucking Remus’ sheets underneath his tall frame, replaying Lily’s words in his mind, and praying that Remus’ reply affirmed that she was correct in saying he couldn’t stay mad at Sirius for too terribly long.


	3. "Goodnight, Stars"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Remus' POV

There were few places in Hogwarts—or the world, really—that Remus loved more than the library in the morning, with its warm glow and peaceful white noise of scratching quills, stacking books, and distant muttering. There was a new addition to the regular list of sounds as Remus sat down, unable to restrict the tapping of his foot against the table or his fingers against the textbook cover. He wanted it to be the fact Lily was late, again, but knew it was something else, as the rapping intensified every time he remembered Ollie and Sirius talking the night before, the flash of Sirius’ face close to his, the combination of them creating a mixture of jealousy and useless hope that manifested into Remus’ restlessness. 

Lily was just as edgy as she flew into the room, red hair whirling behind her and books nearly slipping from underneath her arms. She spilled her belongings atop the table across from where Remus sat, looking at her with passive aggressive indifference, before breathlessly apologizing for her late arrival. 

“I think James… I think he’s caught on to the fact we have study dates every Wednesday, because he was down in the common room before I was and wouldn’t let me leave. He had the front of his body plastered against the door, and he was looking back at me and saying stuff like, ‘come hang out with meeeee you’re always with Remus studying’. So I had to hex him to get out.” 

It was obvious to Remus that Lily was proud of herself, the way she enunciated more clearly than usual and had a wide grin on her face, and Remus wished he could laugh, but all he could muster was a small nod while still focusing on his open textbook. He could sense Lily almost asking what was wrong, but she never did. The next noises made was the organizing of her belongings, the opening of her textbook, and the unrolling of her parchment as she began writing the same essay Remus was working on. Huffing out a breath, Remus refocused, hoping Lily’s calming presence would eventually decrease the shaking of his foot underneath the table. 

“Do you feel that?” Lily asked when Remus was in the middle of a sentence. He looked up, finding Lily’s eyes searching around and under the table, before quickly returning his gaze to his essay. 

His foot shook, hitting the table again, but this time was the first he actually felt it bang against the table. “It’s my foot,” he noted, unapologetically, adjusting his position as little as possible to allow his foot to still quake without it affecting Lily’s studying. She thanked him for the small gesture, to which Remus gave yet another lazy, careless nod. He wished for a silence, some lack of communication between himself and Lily, in order to finish the essay for Binns so he could go back to wailing about the fact Sirius was going out with someone who was not only not Remus, but was more muscular and more charming and more handsome than Remus ever could be.

But, Lily, of course, wanted every detail in her essay to be absolutely perfect—she still believed Binns actually read the essays he was handed in—so asked Remus, too politely considering their years of friendship, “Where are the dates on the formation of the Ministry?” 

“Top left of the page you’re on,” he replied shortly.

“And the dates on Hector Fawley’s rule?” 

Remus dropped his quill on its side, bringing his hands to the sides of his head to pull at his hair in frustration. “God, Lily. It’s right there on the next page! Do you need a new set of eyes, or something?” 

Instead of retracting due to his anger, Lily carefully placed her quill into her inkwell and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “What’s going on, Remus?” she asked with more assertion than curiosity and a voice so calm it made Remus stop in his tracks. 

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied. But, the way his eyes shifted between anything near them that was not Lily made it clear he was lying, as did his twiddling thumbs and stuttering voice. 

She grabbed Remus’ arm, forcing him to look her way, before continuing. “Something is clearly bothering you. You have been passive aggressive and rude since last night.” Then, after making eye contact with Remus, Lily’s features softened, and with delicacy, she asked, “What’s wrong?” 

Remus realized, right then and there, in one of his favorite places in the world he could do it, he could finally let someone else in and tell Lily about how he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Sirius since he came back to Hogwarts in fifth year, after having filled out and grown just slightly taller and gained muscle and gotten a few extra piercings and Remus almost fell over in the middle of King’s Cross Station after seeing him. Remus swore to himself it was just that Sirius had grown up so much in a few months that took his breath away completely. But it never went away, this inability to stand or think properly after looking at, talking to, being near Sirius. He begged himself to grow out of it, to make this just some confused phase of his life because everyone has moments where they think they’re in love with their best friend because they’re just so close already and it would just be so easy to lean in and kiss them and turn it into a relationship, right? Right? But nothing happened, no fire lit in Remus’ stomach when he would stare at James. No matter what Remus tried, it was obvious and undeniable: he was absolutely smitten. And he could tell Lily about it, now, right now, because who cares about comparing the effects of different Ministers throughout time if you’ve been in love with your best friend for more than a year and haven’t told anyone? 

Remus cleared his throat. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said so weakly, it was an obvious lie. 

“But it’s destroying you, and I can’t handle seeing you like this.” Remus looked up from the essay he hadn’t realized he had been staring at, up at Lily’s eyes, filled with a warmth and worry that made him almost cry instantly. He felt the words arriving at the bottom of his throat, truths with a life of their own, and he wanted to tell her, he really wanted to, but… 

“I can’t,” Remus whispered, his gaze falling down to the table once more. “At least, not here.” 

So Lily got up, got up with such placidity Remus probably would not have realized if it wasn’t for her hand leaving his forearm in the process of moving. He did not move as Lily packed up her things, his words revolving around his mind ceaselessly, wondering what he just got himself into. ‘Not here.’ ‘Not here.’ Please. As if there’s somewhere that can make the horribleness of this situation go away.

A hand was outstretched to him atop the still-open textbook. He looked to the side, and Lily stood there, wearing the kind of smile people give to those obviously brokenhearted. “Come on,” she said. He grabbed her hand, regretting it instantly due to knowing what it meant, but still grabbed it, as if his body needed someone else to latch onto, someone to steady him as he got out of the chair. Without asking, Lily organized Remus’ belongings into his bag, putting everything in its correct place, and slung it over her shoulder. 

Remus’ free arm reached out for it. “You don’t have to–” 

“It’s fine,” Lily insisted. “Come on, now. I want to show you something.” 

And the silence that he craved mere minutes earlier was finally given to him, and he wasn’t sure whether to be grateful for Lily’s lack of questions or terrified by her lack of clarification of where they were headed. It couldn’t have been a horrible place, as Lily bounced down the staircases she led them down as if she was not carrying two bags of books and dragging a reluctant seventeen year old boy behind her. The speed at which they descended made all of the chatter and laughter of fellow students around them, all the familiar colors of robes and portraits he knew by memory, fade into a blur. 

It was just stairs and stairs and stairs and the distancing of sounds until it wasn’t. Before he realized, Remus was a floor below the ground floor of Hogwarts, Lily’s hand still around his wrist, and the chatter of conversation had returned slightly. Lily dragged him towards those sounds, into a long corridor of pale white walls decorated with framed paintings of food. The torches that were lit beneath the arched walkway allowed for a warm light to radiate throughout the corridor, and, despite the lack of windows, this seemed like one of the brightest places in Hogwarts. But Remus was too out of breath to ask when they finally stopped, hitting the back wall of the corridor, face to face with a canvas displaying a large silver bowl of fruit. 

“Watch this,” Lily whispered before extending out her hand to scratch her finger against the sole pear featured in the painting. Remus thought he was hallucinating as he watched the pear giggle, then turn into a door handle, as if being a laughing pear painting wasn’t enough of a shock. 

What it opened to made Remus’ open-mouth remain in its position. A humongous, high-ceilinged room was exposed, walls cluttered with pots and pans of various sizes that Remus knew must be used for cooking inside the massive brick fireplace that faced Remus and Lily from the other side of the room. Remus knew this was the kitchen, the initial smell of shepherd’s pie and roasted chicken making it obvious, but still lacked explanation of how or why from Lily, who had a wide smile on her face. 

“Isn’t it brilliant?” she asked, without looking at Remus for a response. 

“Yeah,” Remus said, unsure in delivery but certain in opinion. “How did you figure out how to get in?” 

Lily began walking as she responded, and Remus followed, entranced. “Alice took me here before the Hufflepuff party. She wanted me to meet some of the elves, learn some recipes.” She walked as enthusiastically as she spoke. “I’ve always been fascinated by cooking, you see, but I’m rubbish at the Muggle way, since I’m always here. So she asked me what I wanted to learn how to make, and you know what I said?” 

“What?” 

Lily turned towards Remus, a grin plastered on her lips. “Hot chocolate.” 

Cooly, she continued walking forwards, seeming entirely unphased by Remus’ clutching of her hands and his constant “thank yous” and “I love yous,” except for a small smile that never faltered. They made their way to the brick fireplace, where a particularly wide-eared house-elf was stirring a pot with a wooden spoon almost as large as her body. 

 

“Excuse me, Betty,” Lily began as the house-elf turned around slowly. “I’m Lily, Alice’s friend who you taught how to make hot chocolate. I was hoping you’d let me try again so I could cheer up my friend here. He’s having a hard day and hot chocolate is his favorite drink.” 

Remus was unsure of what to expect in response, but he certainly did not anticipate the long laugh Betty gave at Lily’s pleading face, or the deep voice Betty responded in, that had the warmth and authority of a grandmother. “Sweetheart,” she said between beats of laughter, “if you try and make it, he’s never gonna get any. I’ll make some now. You two just sit down.” 

While Betty summoned a fresh pot and spoon and mugs and the ingredients, Lily and Remus found two lopsided stools to sit on. Remus watched how Betty cooked not by guidelines but by memory, stirring occasionally but not too much, adding the chocolate in at just the right time, knowing how much to put in and folding it into the thick milk with care and ease. She summoned two white mugs, while asking Remus his name, his house, and how he knew Lily. He laughed along with the conversation her questions provoked, thankful for Lily’s sweet comments and Betty’s sassy remarks, but still, the back of his mind kept flashing images of Sirius and Ollie into his vision, making it fuzzy and his heart feel weak. Remus barely remembered anything that was said before he received a massive mug of hot chocolate, but was snapped out of his thoughts by the drink touching his lips, almost making him groan it was so delicious. 

“It’s the best, isn’t it?” Lily asked, her nose scrunched up from the strength of her smile. Remus’ voice was shaky as he agreed, offering Betty a thousand different compliments which she blew off humbly. 

“You better be on your way now,” Betty said. She had returned to mixing the pot she was stirring before Lily and Remus interrupted her, alongside various other saucepans that were so similar in color and shape Remus was amazed at how Betty knew exactly what every pot was cooking. “Lunch is coming by and it gets crazy in here. But take the cocoa. It’s my treat.” 

With similar heartiness as her greeting, Lily told Betty goodbye, and Remus tried to match it, but it came out lukewarm, as he was so caught up in thinking about how brightly Sirius seemed to smile at Ollie. But before Remus could make up some absurd lie about why he seemed so indifferent, Lily was slipping the strap of his shoulder bag over his head, almost spilling his hot chocolate. 

“Take this and let’s go,” she said, grabbing his wrist once more, heading out of the kitchen with the same vigor she approached it with, like some explorer in an uncharted rainforest. The determination was not only at making sure hundreds of house-elves did not knock into them with hot plates of food, no, Remus could see in her face that Lily had not forgotten why Remus needed the hot chocolate in the first place, that she would not let Remus go until she had helped him as best as possible.

After carefully maneuvering through the dangerous combination of crowds of children and steep staircases with their hot chocolates, Lily sat them down in the middle courtyard, remnants of morning dew still present on the grass. They leaned against the base of the stone arches which bordered the courtyard and Remus took a deep breath as he heard the dwindling down of voices as second period began, the chirping of nearby birds and pounding of his heart becoming louder in the silence.

Lily did not look at him as she asked, “So, are you going to finally tell me what is wrong? Or you just going to wait until you internally combust?” 

“Is the second really an option?” Remus inquired, not holding back the hope in his voice. In response, Lily smacked him on the arm lightly, and both laughed despite the visible tension present in Remus’ body. As if remembering that tension existed, after the laughter ended, Lily’s hand returned to the same spot on Remus’ arm, but to rub it tenderly. The shift in interaction, the rediscovered softness it contained, almost made Remus drop his mug. 

Lily apologized, but Remus was quick to deny her any fault. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I needed a hug, or any kind of physical reassurance,” Remus admitted, almost crumbling under his own honesty while feeling Lily do the same. His heart on the cusp of burning, body almost caving into himself but not quite, something in the back of Remus’ mind told him to just continue, let his secret become their secret, rip the bandaid off because his shaking hands and vibrating feet had already given away too much, anyways. Might as well continue. 

So, following yet another deep breath, Remus said alongside his exhale, “I think I’m in love with Sirius.” 

In the silence that followed, the silence that both slowed his heart rate and made it accelerate, Remus gulped down the remaining hot chocolate in his mug to ease the dryness in his throat. Lily’s not judging you. She’s not. She’s not! Remus knew before she placed her head on his shoulder that Lily was more worried about the state of Remus’ heart, the brokenness of it, instead of who it was broken over and what that meant. But his fingers still drummed rapidly against his empty mug, his head was spinning, breath seeming harder to find than usual but still being there, somewhere, because he had just exposed two truths he had kept deeply lodged away since fifth year, and Lily still wasn’t speaking. She still wasn’t speaking, and Remus felt like exploding, almost asked outright to just say anything, please, but she beat him to it. 

“And that is an issue because… ” 

Remus rolled his eyes at Lily, but continued staring straight ahead at the shut doors of empty classrooms across the courtyard. “Because he’s my best friend, Lily. And there’s no way he likes me back. So, I can’t do anything about this, since there’s no way I’m going to lose him over some stupid crush.” 

The sarcasm in Lily’s voice turned soft at the admission. “You know he loves you, too, Remus. He looks at you the same way you look at him.” Remus look downed at the grass, shaking his head in disbelief, hating how easily the thought made his knees weaken. “I’ve seen it! I swear to you. Last night in the common room while you were sleeping, you should have seen him. I- I can’t even describe it. But I swear, it’s there. He might be your best friend, but he wants more than that. Just like you do.” 

“Then why the fuck is he going on a date with Ollie?” It came out more aggressively than intended, a scream rather than a question, and Remus looked up Lily’s face, somehow unphased and still optimistic. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to–” 

“It’s fine, Rem,” she smiled. “I don’t know why. Maybe he’s trying to get over you in the same way you were reluctant to come out in order to keep your feelings for him at bay.” 

Remus was taken aback by how simply Lily stated something he thought was so complex, how it took her no time at all to uncover the strategy for survival he had been using since fifth year. But he wasn’t shocked enough to question about how Lily knew so quickly, rather asking, “But why would he need to do that? To get over me? He’s Sirius Black! He could melt people just by looking at them the right way. He doesn’t need me to affirm he is amazing. Me, on the other hand…” 

“Remus,” Lily begged, knowing where Remus was headed before he began the journey.

“It’s true, Lily. He actually makes me feel good about myself in ways I never knew possible. He’s always saying stuff like, ‘nice work, Moony,’ or ‘you’re bloody brilliant,’ and sometimes he’ll compliment how I look and,”–Remus had to take a breath at the thought before continuing– “I just need that, Lily. I can’t ruin it. He’s my best friend and I at least need that.” 

Lily grabbed Remus’ right shoulder with her hand, almost shaking it but not quite, leaning her face into his. “What makes it so hard to believe that he might love you?” 

Remus felt like cracking up, felt like becoming a ball of malicious ball of roaring laughter, but lacked the energy to do so, leaving the feeling of incredulity hot in his chest. “He doesn’t know I’m gay, first off. Who the hell is stupid enough to fall in love with someone who isn’t even attracted to their gender?” 

“Then do it, Remus. Come out to him and see what happens.” 

The seriousness in Lily’s tone didn’t mix well with the anxiety that flooded in Remus’ heart. “And say what? That I knew it because I fell in love with him? Let something that should be freeing and wonderful turn into a sob-fest when he doesn’t reciprocate?” 

Lily retracted her hand. “Then don’t tell him the whole story. Or don’t tell him anything, if you don’t want to. I’m just saying, if you think he doesn’t love you because he doesn’t know you’re gay, wouldn’t it be nice to give him that piece of information if it could, in fact, change something for the better?” 

“What would change? Lily, can’t you just wrap your head around the fact that Sirius looks at me that way because we’re so close? We’ve known each other for six years. James has kissed me on the face multiple times when drunk, and he cuddles with Sirius all the time, and it’s just how we operate. I can’t lose him because you don’t understand the way we work.”

“I’m not forcing you to take my advice,” Lily said. “I’m just telling you what I’ve noticed and trying to help you decide what to do from there. I love you, Remus. So much. I think it would be good for you to come out to him, but coming out is your thing, and you should have the control over where, when, and whom you come out to. I just think it would help. And even if he’s not in love with you, and I don’t understand the way you three operate, at least you can get over him.” Remus went to turn his head, but Lily grasped his chin with her fingers before he could, forcing him to continue looking at her. “And if he is, in fact, your best friend, he’ll love you even if he figures out you want more than that. It might be awkward at first, in fact, it will probably be awkward. But he cares too much about you to let anything stop your friendship, just like you wanted to stay closeted in order to preserve it. Okay?” 

Stuck at the mercy of Lily’s fingertips, Remus couldn’t pull away to hide the tears welling in his eyes. But it was Lily, Lily who was always there for him, Lily who learned how to make his favorite drink before her favorite meal, Lily who was the first person Remus had come out to and did not treat him any differently for it, so Remus let the tears fall and hit her knuckles, before they left his chin to wipe the wetness off of his cheeks. He tumbled into her chest, robes absorbing the tears. 

“Everything is going to be okay, Remus,” Lily whispered. “I promise. You’ll make it through this. You can make it through anything.” 

What Remus did, ever so gruelingly, make it through was an entire four periods of classes, lunch, and dinner far too close to Sirius, trying to act as if he wasn’t standing atop a high-wire, one step away from falling over at all times. How could he, when he knew Lily was right, that he had to say something to Sirius. And suddenly, instead of holding everything in, he was having quite the opposite issue, a river trying to rage but being held back by floodgates. The words Lily had spoken, unbeknownst to her, had moulded into pictures in his mind: Sirius kissing Remus after admitting to his feelings, their fingers twirling around one another’s while walking to Hogsmeade, Remus waking up with Sirius sprawled atop him, wearing Remus’ jumper. It was all too much and Remus found himself rushing out from dinner early, making some obviously untrue excuse, heading to the bathrooms in order to pour water on his flushed cheeks. Remus owed it to himself to be honest, even if he was leaving the largest part of the secret to himself, as if loving Sirius was some treasure instead of some burden. He looked at himself in the mirror. “You’re doing this, Remus. You’re doing this.” 

He ran up to the dormitories, feet never beating the pace of his heart, but trying to. He rushed even though he was expecting some long, dramatic wait time, some cinematic crescendo where he’d be pacing around their room for hours, waiting for Sirius to arrive. So, when he opened the door to find Sirius lounging atop his unmade bed, drawing shapes into the air with his wand, the first emotion that poured over Remus was shock, followed by an all-consuming terror. Remus could not get his hand to stop shaking as he grasped the doorknob and closed the door, making the simple action take too long, require too much work. Remus knew he was radiating uncertainty. 

But Sirius’ greeting was as casual as ever, a simple, “Hey, Moony,” that Remus wished could calm him down like Sirius’ presence always did, but only intensified the acceleration of his pounding heart. Remus nodded at the hello, afraid to see if he could speak without the words breaking apart into jumbles and stutters, thus making his way to his bed silently. It was like he was trying to be invisible, even though Remus knew Sirius had already seen him. 

Remus sat on the side of his bed while taking off his shoes carefully, indulging himself in the task in order to lengthen the distance between now and when he needed to begin the conversation. He set his shoes down, not bothering to tuck them in their proper position and stared at the wall, counting the dents in the wooden paneling, wishing they would make him feel more like a human and less like an explosive ready to combust. 

“You alright, Moons?” Sirius asked, pulling Remus’ eyes away from the wall and to Sirius, whose chin was tucked into his chest in order to look at Remus while lying down. It was then, as his eyes glazed over to Sirius, Remus looked down at his hands in passing and realized they were shaking wildly. _Why do I have to be so easy to read?_

Sirius was expressionless, waiting to paint his features with whatever reaction necessary while waiting for Remus to respond. The second after Remus said, “Actually, I need to talk to you about something,” concern took over his face, softening Sirius’ eyes and pouting his lips. Remus sat, waiting, with his still-quivering hands in his lap as Sirius wordlessly approached his bed and sat next to him. Overwhelmed by the proximity, Remus almost scooted away. 

“What was it that gave me away? Was it my hands?” Remus laughed a bit while asking the question. He could feel Sirius’ eyes on his fingers and suddenly, the laughter was muffled by Remus wondering if Sirius considered Remus’ hands as intensely as Remus considered Sirius’, memorizing their shape. As if his body needed another reason to shiver. 

Sirius’ smile was so warm Remus could feel it on his face. Or maybe the heat was a blush that Remus was too tired to hold back. “No, no. It was your shoes, actually. You didn’t put them away.” If it wasn’t the blush that made his cheeks feel warm before, then it definitely was now, after Remus realized that Sirius paid attention to things like that. The smile forming on Remus’ face died before it was born, however, at the simple fact that Remus knew James’ every habit and wasn’t in love with him at all. Unfortunate. 

Remus exhaled deeply. He could run away in his thoughts before, definitely, and he had every time he imagined himself in this position: next to Sirius, ready to tell his best friend that he was gay. He had thought about it so many times, before falling asleep, when bored in class, after Sirius laughed in the kind of way that shook his entire body and Remus felt like he just couldn’t hold in his feelings anymore. But those conversations he could run from. He couldn’t walk away now. And, even though he wanted to, a larger part of him kept saying, “Stay, Remus. Stay.” 

So he did. But the words, there were just three of them, kept getting stuck, no matter what stroke of bravery rode through Remus, making him sure that this was the second he would say it, if he could just open his mouth. This kept happening, over and over, and Remus could feel his hands still unsteady, so unsteady, fingers brushing across his jeans every now and again. Should he be standing? Should he have waited? Should he have not? Will Sirius put the pieces together, somehow, look back and see that Remus hadn’t initiated a single hug between them since fourth year, or that Remus spends way too long admiring Sirius’ elegant fingers and realize Sirius was both the hearth that warmed Remus’ heart and the wildfire that blazed through his veins?

Sirius’ voice interrupted the doubts. “You can tell me anything, Remus,” he assured. “But, you also don’t have to tell me anything.” 

The sound that responded was not from Remus’ throat, rather, it was a memory of Lily inside of his mind. Lily promising, promising with so much weight it could have drowned Remus, _“And if he is, in fact, your best friend, he’ll love you even if he figures out you want more than that.”_

So he stayed. Not only because he could hear Lily so clearly, so clearly it was as if she was in the room and whispering in Remus’ ear, but being stuck in this position, unwilling to run but unable to speak, allowed him a quiet moment to realize how his body felt. He felt like he hadn’t breathed for years, full of old air and gasping for new, aching, ready, desperate for inhalation. 

And Remus got it, every inch of his body flooding with fresh oxygen that felt like reincarnation, after he said, so clearly it stung, “Sirius, I’m gay.”


	4. "So Help Me God"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Sirius' POV  
> *WARNING*: This chapter contains rather constant, semi-graphic descriptions of physical and verbal abuse towards LGBTQ+ characters. If you are an individual that identifies as LGBTQ and would feel triggered, someone who has a past with abuse, or someone who is generally discomforted by reading stories of abuse, I highly suggest skipping this chapter. Because this is entirely composed of Sirius' flashbacks, you will not miss any plot. However, I will summarize a few important points in the end of chapter notes that may come back in later chapters.

To be raised in the most noble and sacred house of Black was to enter the world thinking it was some kind of battlefield. At least, that’s how Sirius experienced it, being reprimanded for his horrible posture since age three without fail, never being able to talk out of turn or without a tone of calm distance if he didn’t want to get beaten for it later, having his parents’ explicit threats scare away all of his friends if they were not from sacred, pureblood families. But nothing, no amount of abuse, physical or verbal, could extinguish the fiery gleam in Sirius’ chest, the unquenchable urge to undermine his parents at every turn. If anything, their treatment just continued feeding flames to the fire. 

It was obvious why Regulus was their favorite. “Sirius, would your brother do that?” “Sirius, even your brother knows better than you, and he is two years younger.” “Be more like Regulus.” If Sirius got a Galleon every time his parents said that to him, he would have made more than double the money than he inherited from the infamous Black wealth. But what they didn’t see was the brother that snuck into Sirius’ bedroom late at night after his skin was assaulted with belts, brought him tissues and tea and food and would lay in Sirius’ bed with him until the sun rose then move back into his bedroom as to not get caught. That was the difference: the exposure. Regulus was as imperfect as Sirius but wasn’t even a fraction as obvious about it. So, although there were small alleviations, Sirius remained, for the greater part of his childhood, utterly alone. 

To attempt to fill this void, Sirius began sneaking around Grimmauld Place once the sun set, trying to find something to distract him. He stumbled upon his father’s study, a room he was not allowed in unless invited, and found himself face to face with a bookshelf that spanned the entirety of the wall. He skimmed his hands against the bindings of the books, feeling their rigid spines and the indents of the titles on hardcovers, considering each carefully. But he kept finding titles like, “Philosophy of Blood Status,” or “A History of Giant Wars, volume 2,” which either bored him or disgusted him to no end. He wanted a story, something with peaks and plots and characters and distant worlds, something that could transport him from his life into another. 

The next day at breakfast, Sirius asked his father in the polite manner he only used when he wanted something, “Sir, can we go to the bookstore in town today? I would like to purchase some books.” 

“I have an extensive collection in my study, Sirius,” his father responded without looking up from his plate. “I’m sure we have no need to go buy more books. There should be something of your liking there.” 

“I looked last night and didn’t see anything,” Sirius responded casually. He felt his family’s faces on them, knew without looking there were two expressions of disgust and one of fear staring at his face, which fought back a proud smirk. 

His father pounded his fists on their mahogany table, and Sirius stared at his cup of tea as large ripples ran through it, almost spilling over, but not quite. “Sirius, how many times do I have to remind you the rules of this household? I know you know them, but you continue to break them and tell us about it. We should just lock you in your room and shove a plate or two of burnt food underneath your door until you learn your lesson.” 

Sirius was about to make some crude remark, something like, “I’d probably like that better, since I wouldn’t have to see your faces everyday,” but Regulus spoke first, spoke first with that same silky tone of pureblood placation that made his blood boil. 

“It was my fault, Sir. Sirius came into my bedroom unable to sleep, and I suggested he find something to read in order to help him along. I am so sorry.” 

And of course they bought it, Orion patting Regulus on the back and congratulating him on being the best example of good behavior, even though he admitted to inspiring the action Sirius was reprimanded for just seconds beforehand, while Walburga got up and offered him a fresh cup of tea. Sirius wanted to scream, scream at his father for his favoritism and contradictions, his mother for going along with it thoughtlessly, his brother for being able to sleep soundly knowing his heart was in the right place without having to live in a horror story for it. Even Regulus offering to walk with Sirius to the bookstore “to make sure he doesn’t go out of hand” and Orion agreeing was not enough to cap Sirius’ rage. 

“You know that if I didn’t do it, you wouldn’t be able to go,” Regulus mentioned once they were a safe distance away from Grimmauld Place, the foggy skies of England high overhead. 

Sirius was reluctant to look at his brother as he responded. “That doesn’t mean it’s fair, that just means it’s helpful.” 

They did not speak to one another for the rest of the way there, the first sound after Sirius’ response being the small bell that rang as Sirius opened the door into the bookshop. He smiled at the worker behind the counter who greeted the pair of them, before going straight to the romance novels. 

“Sirius, are you kidding?” Regulus asked. “Dad will never allow you to step across the threshold of our house if you bought these.” But nothing could stop Sirius from grabbing a book titled _Madame Bovary_ before heading to the section titled “American Classics” and selecting two from there, all whilst listening to Regulus’ pleads that he reconsider. 

“I know dad won’t like this,” Sirius admitted after paying for the books. “That’s why you’ve got to help me.” 

When they returned home, Sirius took off his jumper before walking through the door, wrapping his books around it to disguise their presence. He winked at Regulus and entered to the booming voice of his father, demanding to see what Sirius had purchased. 

“Nothing, actually, Sir,” Sirius responded as he and Regulus stood in their sitting room and Orion sat, cross-legged, on a black armchair with his glasses sliding down his nose. “All those Muggle books aren’t nearly intellectual enough. I think I should reconsider your books, father.” 

Sirius swore his father almost choked in shock at Sirius’ words. But he never asked Regulus for affirmation on the verity of Sirius’ statement before responding, with more excitement than Sirius ever heard in his nine years of life, “I would be glad to, Sirius. Come along, then.” 

“Could I– _Sir_ , could I put my jumper in my room first?” Sirius asked with the most charismatic smile he could muster. He was really giving his all into this performance, even “forgetting” to call his father his formal title in order to make it seem as if he cared that he forgot, all the while slipping his finger in between the soft fabric of his jumper to feel the edges of pages, reminding himself of what this all was for. Orion graciously allowed him to leave and as Sirius did so, he swore he heard his father mention how well Regulus was doing with Sirius. 

After hiding his books deep into his closet, behind suits he only wore when some distant relative died, Sirius accompanied an optimistic Orion to his study, selecting three books of similar sizes to the ones he purchased to read. He made some lie about needing to go up to his room in order to properly focus on the material and had to restrict himself from running up the stairway. Sirius collected the books he had purchased, taking their cover slips off and replacing them with the ones from Orion’s books. He put his new books on his nightstand, the old ones into the closet hiding space, and opened up the first pages of _Madame Bovary_ , into a world that would change his. 

Sirius almost forgot to eat a meal, he was so engrossed in the book. Usually, such lateness would warrant half of his serving being scraped off so Sirius had to go to sleep hungry whilst knowing how good the food he could have had tasted, but after he explained why he was late, Orion only smiled. The dinner was filled with artificial smiles and even more artificial conversation. Sirius returned to the book after, finding himself utterly fascinated with the character of Charles. He seemed sweet and loving, albeit being clumsy and awkward, and Sirius knew he was tall and handsome. This caused an insurmountable reaction of rage when the author decided to switch the perspective of the book, going from Charles to Emma. But Sirius never considered it as a crush, per se, until three days later when Emma cheats on Charles, and Sirius throws the book across his room. “I would never cheat on Charles,” Sirius said to himself gruffly, a pout on his face and arms crossed over his chest. 

Sirius expected the knock on his bedroom door to be one of his parents wondering what that noise was, but instead, he found a smiling Walburga, reminding him that they were hosting a dinner party in a few hours and that it was time for Sirius to begin getting ready. So he put on his funeral suit haphazardly, ran a brush through his hair, and went back to reading. 

The guests were as stuffy and pompous as his parents, everyone talking in that same smooth tone, only to be interrupted by dry yet honest laughter. Honest laughter except for Sirius, who acted the part perfectly, aching to begin eating in order to make an excuse to leave and continue reading. Until, three people entered, obviously two parents and their son, and Sirius nearly collapsed when the boy with slicked-back brown hair and a tall build introduced himself as Charles. 

They spent the evening together, laughing actual laughter in the corner of the sitting room while impersonating the party’s guests. Sirius felt his chest flutter when Charles’ hand accidentally brushed part of Sirius’ or when he leaned in to whisper something derogatory about a guest in Sirius’ ear. When he left Sirius was deliriously happy, finally finding someone that understood him that his family would approve of, finally having a friend, a friend that could turn into something more. But Orion smashed his dream without even knowing what it was. 

“You cannot associate with that Charles boy anymore, Sirius,” Orion demanded the next day. “And we must stop inviting that family to our parties, Walburga. Apparently he is a homosexual. Can you imagine? How did a pureblood family with traditions and customs knowingly raise a homosexual without trying to do anything to stop it. It’s really laughable, truly.” So he proceeded to laugh, spurring Walburga’s laughter, spurring Regulus’, spurring Sirius to ask a question.

“What does being gay have to do with being a pureblood? He still meets the main requirement.” Sirius spoke carefully, in that tone he loathed but depended on, not wanting to have his room searched and his books burnt in the grand fireplace. 

When Orion responded, it wasn’t with anger, but with a tone of a teacher educating Sirius on what is right. “Because gay men aren’t pure, Sirius,” he informed. “So they musn’t be pureblood.” Orion turned his head to Walburga. “Take them off the list, please. I don’t want us forgetting.” 

So the parties rolled around, and Sirius found good company and real laughter with a few girls, a few boys, and sometimes no one, depending on the guest list. But he always found himself staring at the door, hoping for Charles’ return not primarily due to missing him dearly, but in order to make sure he isn't receiving the kind of treatment Sirius used to. Sometimes he faked illness to go and reread Madame Bovary, underlining passages he liked, both for their beauty and in wishing it was the life he got to live. One with someone like Charles, both the real and fictional one, where he got to ride on horse-pulled carriages while being kissed. 

He continued the stream of buying books and switching out the covers, doing whatever necessary to tiptoe around intellectual discussions with Orion, who still believed his son was making a considerable dent in his study’s bookshelf. Sirius fell in love so many times during his year before Hogwarts he couldn’t keep count, between the princesses and knights, noblewomen and men, wives and husbands. But, too afraid to lose his books and certain that he was quite possibly romanticizing these characters, he never said anything, just quietly defied comments his father or mother made in discreet politeness. 

It wasn’t until his trip to Hogsmeade for school supplies that he knew, for a fact, he was not romanticizing, that he “not pureblood” gay purebloods. Because, while staring into Honeydukes’ window, among the rows of pastel sweets his stomach craved, Sirius noticed a wiry boy with a crooked smile and short yet messy hair. He looked about Sirius’ age, and Sirius prayed he was so they would meet at Hogwarts, because his father would not allow him to speak to strangers while out. Sirius’ heart beat deeply and loudly all during the afternoon, constantly looking around him in hopes of seeing that boy again. 

It was at dinner that Sirius said it. He had eaten so they couldn’t take his food away from him, and eaten a lot in case they decided to use that usual punishment of food deprivation for a few days, alongside being beat, of course. Sirius didn’t know that people could speak while not breathing, but that’s what it felt like when he came out.

“I have something to tell you,” he said to his family, all looking at him with a concern he wished he could have unconditionally, instead of conditionally. “I… I like girls and boys. Romantically.” 

Sirius almost wished the reaction was different, the reaction of full-bodied laughter by all three of them that shook the table and the plates and the cups of tea. Orion wiped tears out of his eyes. “What a jokester, my son!” he wailed between beats of laughter. But when their laughter died down and Sirius’ never began, a tangible shift of energy occurred into the room. Anger set in, hot and loud and terrifying, but Sirius didn’t flinch.

“My own son?” Orion asked, quizzically at first, but then seizing the front of Sirius’ button down shirt over the table. He looked so deeply into Sirius’ eyes, Sirius felt violated. “Tell me the truth! You know you’re lying! No son of mine is a homosexual!” Orion shook Sirius wildly, but Sirius did not respond, causing his father to push him back into his chair, which toppled over so Sirius landed on his back on the dark hardwood floor. 

In a flash, Orion was standing above Sirius, his dress-shoe clad foot pressing into his son’s chest. “Walburga, search his room. I want it stripped clean of anything homosexual. Any bright colors that could be part of that rainbow thing. Any letters if he was secretly corresponding with Charles.” She leapt into action, her lips pressed together in distaste, but following through nonetheless. “Regulus, if I could have your belt. I want this to be a lesson to you, too, my son, my better son, on how to stay good, how to live by pureblood rules and integrity.” Regulus, face also scrunched, obviously hating every minute of it, still followed through, unbuckling his belt, slipping it off, handing it to his father and watching his brother writhe about the floor while the leather ripped apart his skin.

“I found something!” Walburga yelled, running through the kitchen in a manner that was not Black family standard at all. “Your books, Orion. He replaced the covers to them and put them on his own. Look.” 

Orion stood up, leaving his son’s bruised and heaving body on the ground, to look at the novels that Walburga put on the table. “ _Madame Bovary. The Scarlet Letter. Emma. Jane Eyre._ Not only are these Muggle books, but they’re romances! I cannot believe you could read this, defile your mind with such useless and feminine text.” A silence broke up his rant, all but Sirius’ heavy breathing falling silent. “Walburga, start a fire.” 

And they were burnt. They were burnt into ashes, words that comforted him, worlds that saved him, characters who he loved, all scorched into black dust. Sirius didn’t cry, but he wanted to. He wanted to jump into the fire and save them, not caring that his raw skin would get horribly scorched. But Orion had him tied to the sitting chair, so he was helpless at the clutches of his evil father, useless mother, and condescending brother. 

“Walburga, bring him up to his room,” Orion said. “There’s one book left, that Bovary one, but I can tell he loved it. He underlined parts. I don’t want him to see it burnt. He doesn’t deserve to be able to see it get turned to dust. But know, the second you leave, Sirius, it will go in the fireplace, never to be seen again.” 

“I hate you!” Sirius screamed, aggressively thrashing in his chair, trying to break the ropes that tied him to the wooden chair. “I hate you! All of you!” He kept fighting, even though he knew it was useless, hating the grin it lit up on his father’s cheeks, the tears it spilled onto his. So Walburga requested Regulus’ help to move Sirius, grabbing him by his arms and legs while Orion removed the confines. They dragged Sirius up to his room, sobbing and thrashing even still, threw him on the ground of his bedroom, and locked the door behind them.

“Reg, I don’t want you hanging out with your brother anymore,” Walburga said, outside of Sirius’ door, loudly enough so he could hear it. “I don’t know if this is infectious if he’ll try and make you gay. But you have to be cautious, alright? So you are forbidden to interact with him unless your father or I can oversee it.” 

Sirius had never been lonelier in his life. He did not only count down the days until Hogwarts, but the hours, the minutes. He ripped his wallpaper to shreds and broke the plates that his burnt half-servings of food came on. When the day finally came, his hopeful heart returning as the Hogwarts Express pulled up onto Platform 9 and ¾ , he did not say goodbye to his parents and made a point to ensure the two boys he sat within the train car were not pureblood wizards. Their names were Remus and James, and Sirius swore he had seen Remus before. 

He walked to the Sorting with them, Remus’ sly comments and James’ horrible jokes healing his heavy heart, lifting it, making it soar. When it was his turn, the hat chuckled while being placed on his head. “You’re a Black, I see. A pure Slytherin family through and through. But– oh, I see you don’t want that fate?” 

“I want Gryffindor,” he said, looking at a smiling Remus and James as they sat at that table. “To get a rise out of them.” 

“Well you’re braver than anyone I’ve seen,” the hat complimented before screaming out Gryffindor, causing the table to erupt in claps, and James and Remus to shout happily. Sirius was almost unphased by the Howler that arrived the next morning at breakfast, his father’s voice shouting at him for defying his family, yet again, and so soon after coming out as a homosexual. 

The entire room fell silent, so silent Sirius thought the gulp of his throat could be heard by the Ravenclaws that sat so far away from him. But Sirius had an idea, so he stood up, got on the bench, then stepped onto the table. “It’s not true,” Sirius announced to his schoolmates. “I’m bi, actually.” He smiled at the students, whose mouths were all agape. 

It was James who broke the silence, hooting, and hollering, which Remus joined in on, which the entire Gryffindor table joined in on. Soon Sirius couldn’t see a face that wasn’t supporting him– of course, he denied looking at the Slytherin table– and continued his breakfast with a smile on his face after patting James’ back appreciatively. 

To be bi in the most accepting school of wizardry was freeing. Sirius finally was able to exhale a breath he did not realize he had been holding, ask boys out alongside girls, flirt with both. James was his designated wingman, which Sirius reciprocated by putting in a kind word about James to a spunky, redheaded Gryffindor named Lily, whose annoyed but bashful reaction made Sirius instantaneously like her. But Remus, who Sirius constantly found himself staring at, was not as brazen about his love life. Even though he said all the right things, read all the best books, and had the most infectious smile, he never seemed to have a girlfriend. Sirius urged him to ask people out, but, somewhere deep within his heart, was grateful Remus never went through with the requests. 

Summers were the worst. Sirius decided to grow his hair out when he got to Hogwarts, and every summer it had gotten so far along in the process, but every summer, his mother cut it despite his pleads not to. He barely got fed, his door was always locked and his window got a lovely addition of a wrought-iron fencing, in order to restrain him from sneaking out. When Walburga got notice that the Potter’s were happy to let Sirius live with them, Orion applied an invisibility serum to Sirius’ scars, unable to let them show, so there was no concrete proof Sirius should live somewhere else. Sirius would count the days, minutes, and hours until he got back to Hogwarts. And, when the train arrived, he would never say goodbye to his parents before seeking out his best friends’ company. 

But the summer before fourth year, that summer required an entirely new word to be created to describe the mixing of emotions, the heavenly highs and hellish lows. Sirius had asked out a classmate named Riley at the beginning of third year, Riley who was gorgeous and funny and smart and liked to wear both jeans and chucks and flannels with a binder on some days and dresses with heels on others. That didn’t stop Sirius from becoming entranced. During the walks to Hogsmeade, picnics at Black Lake, long Common Room cuddle sessions, Riley was able to teach Sirius about so much more than he ever knew, growing up in a pureblood household. Riley explained what being genderfluid meant, and helped Sirius along the way in the spectrums of both sexuality and gender. After Riley first spoke the word gender fluid, in the long conversation that followed, Sirius realized the label pansexual fit him better. Being able to talk to Riley made Sirius feel so free like he was living as opposed to going through motions assigned to him since birth. And he constantly thanked Riley for it, with hands running through their short hair or snacking in between their fingertips. 

So Riley didn’t understand why Sirius wouldn’t invite them over for the summer, even though both of them spent the months before daydreaming about walking around London together, falling asleep in the same bed, making one another breakfast in the morning. But Sirius’ heart closed up quickly after those perfect pictures were painted. If he was barely allowed food, how would his family treat his genderfluid significant other? With the vaguest of explanations, Sirius pleaded Riley to stay as far away from Grimmauld Place as possible. 

So, when Riley showed up on their doorstep a few days into summer, Sirius wanted to scream. 

“Riley, what are you doing here?” he said, trying to keep his voice down, while his hand ran through his hair. “You have to go before they see you. Please leave. Now.” 

Riley pushed back against Sirius’ grip on their shoulders, Converse skidding across hot summer pavement. “I don’t care if they disapprove of me, Sirius. I want to be with you.” 

“It’s not… it’s not just about disapproval, Riley. Listen, I’ve never told you this, but my father belted me when I came out. He belted me and all my mother and Regulus did was stand and let him. And… and…” Sirius had to take a deep breath before continuing, “I can’t let you into that household knowing what that man was able to do to me, his own son, because God only knows what he would do to you. I’m sorry, Riley. I’m so sorry.” 

Sirius’ head hung down. He felt deflated and pathetic, wanting to live up to the brave Gryffindor standards his father resented him for having, but finding himself unable to. This wasn’t his body, his skin, his welfare he was putting at risk for blood and bruises. This was Riley’s. So he fell into their grip on Sirius, sniffling tears away while feeling the soft press of lips on his forehead. 

“I wish I could take you with me,” Riley said. “I know you can’t write me. So please, just promise me you’ll be as safe as possible. And then I’ll be on my way, I guess.” 

So Sirius did what he was asked and Riley did what they had promised, leaving Sirius to enter 12 Grimmauld Place alone and withering to the floor. He wished he could bask in the beauty of it, the fact that for the first time in his life he was wanted by someone else for being who he was, not what someone wanted, but rather found the reciprocation frustrating, unable to act on it fully. His negativity was obvious as he entered the living room with his head still down. This contrasted greatly with the energy bursting out of Orion’s pores. 

“My boy! You’ve done it!” he yelled, shaking Sirius by the shoulder, right where Riley had touched. The thought danced upon Sirius’ thoughts, making him shudder. His father had no right to touch him in the same places as Riley, being that it was his homophobia that pushed them away from one another. Sirius struggled to get out of Orion’s grasp but was unsuccessful. “You’ve done it!” he kept yelling, far too loudly for how close he was to Sirius’ ear. In exasperation, Sirius almost asked Orion what he had finally done, but Orion beat him to it. “You’ve found a girl to date! Walburga, get the wine! It was a phase after all! He’s healed!” 

Suddenly, he no longer struggled. Sirius escaped his father’s grip within seconds. He backed up to where the entryway met with the living room, distancing himself from his father. 

“What’s wrong, Sirius?” Orion asked, smile still brightening up his features in a way Sirius had never seen. “This is a cause for celebration! You’ve been saved!” 

Walburga entered with two glasses of wine, both of which were handed off to Orion, who approached Sirius, outstretching a glass to him. Sirius took one look at the delicate crystal before knocking it over with his hand. It broke into a thousand jagged islands amongst a vast purple sea. “I don’t want your fucking wine,” Sirius spat. “And Riley isn’t just a girl. Sometimes, Riley chooses to dress up and act more masculinely. Riley doesn’t go by she, but goes by they. And I find them absolutely fascinating and beautiful regardless.” 

Sirius was expecting shouting or that chillingly quiet version of anger. Sirius was expecting large hand gestures and to be thrown to the ground. What Sirius didn’t expect was the laughter that followed as Orion’s response. “I can’t believe that you could bring home someone that’s more of a freak than you!” Orion shouted. “You should get some kind of reward for herding freakshows. You’re either a man or a woman. And if you’re a man, you love women, and if you’re a woman, you love men. It’s so simple.” 

“Do you know why your world is so simple? Do you?” A combination of anger and sudden courage caused Sirius to lunge forwards, inching his face close to his father’s one, which smirked at Sirius in question. “It’s because you’re so closed-minded, it would be impossible for anything to be complex. Your mind would probably explode if you were gay because you wouldn’t be able to handle how complicated parts of it is.” 

“No, Sirius,” Orion whispered. “My mind explode if I was gay because my father would hit me to the floor until I realized I was being a fool, which is exactly what I intend to do with you. Because, as long as you live under the roof of a Black House, you follow the rules of pureblood integrity and tradition, and if you do not, you feel the repercussions.” 

And so Sirius’ ribs contracted at the feeling of Orion’s fist, his knees buckled, leading him cheek-first onto the hardwood floor. Sirius’ eyes opened minutes after, face level to the pool of wine and glass. The first thing he felt wasn’t the ache in his stomach, but a harsh and ceaseless stinging from his cheek, whose blood was intermixing with the pool of wine. Sirius watched as the two reds swirled together, unable to do much else, his body positively winded from the blow. He tried to move his cheek out of the glass, but something heavy dropped on his head, making him unable to move. A piercing cry left his throat as the glass lodged deeper and deeper into his skin.

“You know, Sirius, I always wondered from when you were young what your greatest failure would be. No matter what your mother or I did, you never grew out of your need to spite us. But this is a new low, son.” Orion physically punctuated the end of his sentence by releasing his foot off of Sirius, just to kick him with it moments later.

Without a word, Orion left his son, his oldest son, the one whose middle name was his first, bleeding and whimpering against panels of wood that covered the most ancient and most noble house of Black. It took an hour for Sirius to find the strength to set himself on his knees, one hand on the wall and the other on his bloodied cheek. In time he stood, legs wobbly but heart steady, and made his way through the darkness of his home for the last time. Because if he would feel the repercussions for as long as he lived under a Black house’s roof, then he was leaving as soon as possible. 

After he drug his trunk along the long hallway of Grimmauld Place and had a hand on the doorknob, a voice whispered Sirius’ name. One that made Sirius heart snap and remember all of those nights in his bedroom where food and water and company was brought to him. 

“Siri, where are you going?” Regulus asked, voice exposing he was on the brink of tears, and Sirius would be lying if he said he was in any other condition. But Sirius still moved away from the faint light at the tip of the candle Regulus held. 

“James’, probably.” Sirius saw his brother’s face fall. “Please, Regulus. You heard what he said. I know you were in the kitchen, being a good boy, listening. I’ll be safer if I leave.” 

“But Sirius!” He felt his brother’s hands trying to find a robe or jacket or scarf to hold onto. Sirius contorted his body so Regulus would miss every time. 

Sirius scoffed, staring down at his little brother. “If you wanted to help me, you could have. But I’m leaving now, because the Potters will actually take care of me, and I will never cross the threshold of this house again, so help me God.” 

The candlelight was dim, it didn’t show much, but Sirius could see the vague shapes of tears falling down Regulus’ face. In a moment of weakness, Sirius felt his hand twitch, felt it beg him to at least touch his younger brother’s shoulder or hug him or wipe away a tear. But why should Sirius clean Regulus’ cheeks when he did nothing to help prevent the blood from dripping from Sirius’? So he opened the door to a starry sky. 

“I’ll see you at school, Reg.” 

Sirius arrived at the Potter’s, suitcase full and eyes heavy, via Knightbus early the next morning. James was the first to greet him, running outside and capturing Sirius’ face in his hands. “What did they do to you?” he mumbled, tears filling his eyes, before hugging Sirius so tightly. “Don’t worry. We’ve had a spare bedroom ready for years.” It was the first summer Sirius didn’t need to count down the days, hours, and minutes until Hogwarts. When the train came, he didn’t say goodbye to his parents, but hugged the Potters tightly, promising to write as often as possible. 

Riley found him on the train, hands filled with letters and eyes filled with shock. “You wrote,” they said. Sirius just nodded and smiled, offering them the empty spot in the train car. 

Riley was ecstatic about the move, spending the train to Hogwarts with the boys, helping James and Sirius plan out how they would decorate their shared bedroom while Remus made perfectly-timed witty comments without raising his head out of his book. Even with his hand on Riley's, fingers twisting in and around one another, Sirius couldn’t help admiring Remus from across the train car. He had grown considerably, both in height and in muscle, his thin frame filling out in an obnoxiously attractive way. His hair had gotten longer, too, just long enough that a few curls were forming at the top of it, and Sirius had to restrict himself from touching it. 

Those inclinations kept happening throughout the first weeks of Hogwarts, and although Sirius only indulged in a few of them, like cuddling with Remus after particularly straining full-moons or fluffing his hair, Riley took a notice of the affection in how he interacted with Remus, and how that lacked between him and Riley.

“Sirius, I know you and Remus and James have been best friends forever and are touchy and I’m fine with that,” they told Sirius one night when the common room was empty except for the two of them. “I’m just wondering why, if you’re dating me, you touch Remus more often.”

Sirius felt like someone just shoved him down a flight of stairs. His response was said as if something similar had knocked the air out of him, “Are you accusing me of liking him more than you?” 

“Well, if so, I won’t be mad. I just want you to tell me. Because I want to respect your feelings. And if you’re finding yourself more attracted to Remus than me, I understand. I just don’t want to be played around with.”

Even though the fireplace was barely burning, Sirius suddenly felt very hot, feverishly so, like he was going to explode into lava and burn everything around him. He sat for a long time with a patient Riley, never asking him to speak before Sirius was ready to, considering how it felt like sitting with them, and comparing that to the concept of sitting here with Remus instead, possibly laying his head into Remus’ chest, playing with those godforsaken curls, feeling Remus’ widening chest and strong heart beating underneath his fingertips. And when Sirius’ began pounding at the thought, he knew Riley was right. 

Though the breakup was as amicable as they come, followed by a warm friendship that was never awkward, even when they were left alone, Sirius still felt absolutely fucked. Because he was constantly dying to be underneath Remus’ touch, his lips, to be sitting next to Remus and feel his body breathe. He had to fight back a blush when Remus touched him accidentally, or when he just woke up and his voice was deeper than usual. And Sirius hid it. But he was fucked. He was so fucked. Because Remus was straight, so nothing could ever happen between them. But Sirius couldn’t stop dreaming about some hypothetical universe in which Remus loved him back, but it was useless, utterly useless. Because Remus was straight. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> important things *CONTAINS SPOILERS*: 1) Sirius reads Madame Bovary and wants a horse-drawn carriage date 2) Sirius dates a genderfluid Gryffindor named Riley who helps him discover his sexual identity as pan 3) Sirius runs away and moves in with the Potters in the summer before year four 4) Riley and Sirius break up a few weeks into their fourth year, but remain friends


	5. "I Wish"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Remus' POV

And in those next few moments, the ones after Remus spoke, the ones in which the tail ends of his words vanished from the air into nothingness, among the worry, joy, freedom, and restlessness he felt, among the millions of thoughts that came into his mind, one stood out in particular. It was a theory from some famous Muggle that his mom told him about years ago, a bloke named Einstein, who proposed that time moves at different speeds. Remus never understood the concept his mom spoke about so enthusiastically. 

But here, now, waiting for Sirius, he felt it. He knew Sirius only responded after seconds, maybe minutes at most, but everything around him felt compressed, as if the air was pushing down on them, turning everything slow motion. The seconds were made of minutes, the minutes made of hours. 

But all time came crumbling down at the sound of Sirius’ voice. “Am I the first person that knows?” 

Remus tilted his head so he could look at Sirius’ face. He looked calm. Remus knew that was better than most options, better than the stories Sirius had only shared on a few occasions including belts and screams and punching. But, other than those, Remus didn’t exactly know what he wanted to hear. So he answered, “yes,” curious as to see where Sirius was taking the conversation. 

“How does it feel?” Sirius asked, breathless and dreamy, all childlike. In a stroke of pure genius Remus realized something: Sirius was trying to live through him, experience coming out in a way that was safe and joyous and deliberate. He was genuinely curious.

Remus chuckled a bit, smiling for the first time since speaking to Lily. “Good. Like when you’re swimming, and then come up for a breath. It’s a release.” 

Sirius’ face contorted into pursed lips and a squeezing brow line before asking, “You’re not scared at all, right?”

“No! Not at all.” Remus brightened his smile at Sirius at the comment to reaffirm the truth in it. _At least not of this._

“That’s good,” Sirius responded while nodding his head. His tone was so unlike him, breathless and impersonal, like there was something he was trying to avoid. “How long have you known?” 

Remus thought back to the time he saw Sirius after the summer of fourth year, grin wide, hair long, shoulders broader, voice deeper, unable to not smile to himself at the recollection of a young version of himself almost falling over at the sight of him. But then his mind flashed to dancing to Steph only the night before now, how wrong it felt, how he just wanted to run. And there was the in between, too, trying to fall in love with James to try and delegitimize his feelings for Sirius, but still staring at male Quidditch players for far too long, falling in love with the princes in his novels instead of the common girl who was the prince’s star crossed lover. But when did it began? 

“I…. I have no idea,” Remus admitted. “It was an accumulation of things, I guess. But I’ve been pondering over it for a year, now. But I didn’t know, I just kind of realized I didn’t fall in love with girls the way straight guys always talked about. I never questioned my sexuality before then. But then, I started to, and things just kept making sense. And now, here we are.” 

“Here we are indeed,” Sirius repeated, smiling. He put a hand on Remus’ shoulder, shaking it lightly. “I’m proud of you, Remus. I know you didn’t come out to me to have me say that, but I just wanted you to know.” 

Remus placed his right hand on top of Sirius’, who placed his left on top of Remus’, who placed his left on top of Sirius’, and they exploded into laughter and a beautiful– albeit unceremonious– hug. It was as messy and honest and wonderful as Remus’ journey to the moment, and therefore, quite the perfect tribute to it. It was also yet another affirmation of how it all began; as Remus pulled away, he caught another whiff of that ridiculously overpriced coconut conditioner, making his mind wander to dangerous places. Now, more than ever, Remus had to be careful. No longer were the strokes of his fingers across Sirius’ skin or the brushing of his long hair just friendly. Now, they had the potential to spill Remus’ most sacred secret, so he had to be careful, calculated. And painfully so. 

That was the reason Remus pulled away from the hug first, hating every moment of parting from Sirius’ electric skin. They sat in a comfortable silence during the moments after, the only sound echoing throughout the room being Remus’ sock-clad heel brushing against his duvet. The silence died at Sirius’ voice.

“Moons,” he began, “before you mentioned you never questioned your sexuality before a certain point. Something broke the cycle. And I’m just wondering, what was that?” 

Remus smiled at Sirius’ ignorance, praying their discussions could stay this deep yet uncomplicated forever, yet knowing what he said next would destroy normalcy. “It wasn’t something. It was someone.” 

“Oh!” Sirius nearly screamed, contrasting with the calm carefulness he spoke with earlier. “It was the same for me! I told you about how I saw that boy in Honeydukes, right?” Remus nodded, trying to keep his facial expression more unbiased than his jealousy-stricken heartbeat. 

Remus couldn’t help resisting the urge to laugh at Sirius’ childlike wonder. “It makes you wonder how many different paths of discovery there are, huh?” Remus asked. He felt Sirius’ eyes on him, so turned to see him wearing a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. 

“Makes me wonder who your someone was.” 

Remus swore his entire respiratory system shut down all at once: his lungs, trachea, heart, and everything in between, below, over, under, next to. He felt like he needed to sit down but he was seated already, so what was there to be done? His head blurred with all the scenarios, flashing through his mind like comets, ready to destruct and explode. He saw himself telling Sirius the truth, leading to a lack of communication for the rest of time. He saw himself lying to Sirius, Sirius who knew Remus’ reactions better than Remus knew himself, and would be able to see the lie as it formed in Remus’ mind, leading to an argument and eventual, sloppy confession. He saw himself dodging the question, just to have it asked over and over again. And, while annoying, that seemed like the best possible option. 

“I… I don’t want to say, Sirius,” he admitted, causing his friend to laugh next to him. It jostled the bed and left Remus feeling even more wobbly. 

“C’mon, you can trust me. Just tell me who it is.” He had that famous Sirius Black smile on his face, the perfect mixture of mischief and warmth so overwhelmingly endearing, and Remus had to swallow ruggedly in order to not let the name just tumble out. How powerless he became in the grasp of Sirius’ charm.

But he held it together after the gulping of his throat. “I’m not going to tell you,” Remus said, letting laughter trail over the end of his sentence to cover the fear he felt. “Just let it go.”

“Moooonnyyyy,” Sirius whined, tilting his chin up to the ceiling, then rolling his head to face Remus in a position that looked mildly uncomfortable. But his eyes still sparkled with want.

“Stop!” The word came out half-laugh, half-demand. It was difficult for Remus to stay serious around Sirius for too long; it was a simple fact of life he discovered in his first year at Hogwarts. “I’m not going to tell you! Bugger off.” 

Sirius assumed position, and Remus knew Sirius was going to lunge into him and tackle him to confession. Remus imagined it momentarily: Sirius, all aglow with those fiery eyes and a smirky smile, pushing a squirming Remus down on the bed sheets, the two of them rolling around until it would end with a pinned down Remus, heavy breathing, and skin too close for comfort. Remus’ throat felt parched, and never before had he been more thankful for the dorm room door opening, distracting Sirius, as James walked through in full Quidditch gear. 

He paused at the door. “Is this a bad time?” he asked, looking so tired that he probably said it out of politeness instead of concern. 

Remus wanted to slap Sirius for answering, “not at all,” as if Remus didn’t just burst his chest open and reveal that his heart beat for men and men only. But then, a more logical wind swept over Remus’ mind, realizing that he was sitting next to a professional liar, and that Sirius’ reaction was probably exactly what was necessary to keep their secret their secret. 

So James smiled, tiredness written all over the sag of his cheeks, and trudged his way to the bed.   
“Oh, well I just assumed that since you were both on the edge of the same bed talking, it was something serious. That’s the usual position for intense discussions,” he mentioned casually, never looking up at either of them. 

“Everything’s good,” Remus answered, not even trusting his own words. “How was Quidditch?” 

“Draining,” James replied. Somehow, he was already in his pyjamas, which consisted of a white cotton t-shirt and his boxers. “If you two won’t judge me for it, I’m going to bed without showering. And please try to keep it down.” 

“Yeah, we should go to bed,” Sirius said. Remus almost pulled his arm in, asking Sirius why he was leaving, before stupidly remembering this was his bed, his bed under his ticking body and over his out of place Converse. But Sirius wasn’t quick to leave, returning to whisper in Remus’ ear, “Prong’s arse looks good in those boxers, huh?” It wasn’t the strangeness of Sirius saying something so vulgar about James that sent heat shooting up Remus’ neck, but rather the hot breath that rushed against his ear and who that exhale belonged to. 

If it wasn’t for their beds facing one another’s, Remus wouldn’t have been able to see the small wink that Sirius directed at him from across the room. Rather than flustered, Remus felt uncharacteristically bold and characteristically annoyed. 

If it wasn’t for their beds facing one another’s, Sirius wouldn’t have been able to see the middle finger that Remus pointed into the air from across the room. Sirius charmed off the lights to shield it, naturally. In the darkness, feeling happier and more scared than ever before, Remus rolled onto his pillow and found himself in the exact same spot eight hours later, arm draping in front of him and all knuckles except one bent into his matress. 

The sun poured into their room with an aggressive brightness. Remus wanted to be angered by it, but the warmth the sunlight allowed reminded him of the feeling of Sirius’ skin, so he basked in it momentarily before sitting up rapidly in his bed, sheets pooling around him. This was his first morning not being straight to Sirius Black. His first morning where he’d have to think about acting normal, just like before, before when he couldn’t like Sirius due to his sexuality but it was now. After. Not one of Remus’ cards was still in his hand, they were all laid out in full display, and fuck, how could Remus ever find refuge again? Ever stare at Sirius obviously, then be able to brush it off because there was no way anyone would think it was doting or fantasizing because he wasn’t out yet. How was he supposed to look at Sirius? Talk to Sirius? Breathe next to Sirius? 

Especially when Sirius knew there was someone Remus wanted to look at like that, talk to softly, make breathless. Remus had entered a warzone with no weapons, allies, or strategy. He was assured this was a battle he was meant to, going to lose. 

So he took a walk. There was a slight chill in the spring air, nipping at the skin on his cheeks, but he loved the freshness of it, how good it felt to breathe it in and out, out and in. Remus listened to the birds that swooped in front of his body out of nowhere, the rustle of leaves in trees. He focused on the sounds as intently as possible, but all he truly heard was his loud heartbeat. Because no matter how hard he focused on birdsongs, or how much he admired the way Black Lake shone in the morning sun and the feeling of the breeze through his unbrushed hair, he couldn’t get Sirius out of his thoughts. 

The Great Hall was quiet when he went in for breakfast, being one of the first students to arrive. He noticed Pandora at the Ravenclaw table, sitting with her knees tucked into her chest and her nose buried in a book. Although she could not see him, Remus cast a smile her way, hoping she could feel the warmth of it the way Remus felt the morning sun on his skin and it felt so much like Sirius’ touch… 

Everything looped back to him. Everything. It was sickening and maddening and intoxicating. Much like the man himself. 

Remus ate slowly, picking his food apart and chewing it thoughtfully as the Great Hall began to fill up. Every time someone new crossed the entryway, it became increasingly difficult for Remus to swallow, because every time, it could have been Sirius walking through. When it was McGonagall it could have been Sirius. When it was a group of Ravenclaw first-years it could have been Sirius. When it was that Malfoy git it could have been Sirius. 

And then came the time it was actually Sirius. 

He practically bounced over to Remus, yet somehow still had a smoothness in his gait. The Black way of walking was more of a waltz, and Sirius made his way over, gliding across the floor. Even though the Great Hall was almost full by now—Sirius was always a late riser—Remus swore all sound died after the moment he walked in, as if he was the only thing that existed. 

“I knew you’d be here,” Sirius said, sitting down across from Remus, not even bothering with the food in front of him. “Now,” he smirked evilly, “we can pick up where we left off, and you can finally stop being an absolute prick and tell me who you are madly in love with.” 

Remus shushed Sirius, looking around in a rush. Luckily, they seemed to be isolated at the Gryffindor table, everyone a few seats away from them on all sides. Remus felt safer, but still like he was dangling off of the Astronomy Tower by his pinkie finger. 

“You’ve got to be careful,” Remus whispered. “No one knows.” 

“I don’t either! I know as little as they do.” 

Remus arched his eyebrow at Sirius, who was leaning in aggressively, chest almost touching his plate. “You know more than most.” 

Every part of Remus—except that small, stupid fraction of his brain, the same one that thought it was plausible that Sirius could love him back—knew that statement wouldn’t be enough to stop Sirius from his pleads. And, as expected, Sirius continued whining, alternating between an endless stream of “please please please,” and “c’mon Moony, just tell me,” and “I promise I won’t say anything,” that absolutely ruined the taste of Remus’ food. 

In the act of rolling his eyes dramatically, Remus spotted James entering the Great Hall. James, his other best friend, who was unarguably handsome and sweet and supportive. James, his other best friend, which meant Remus would be crossing just as many lines. James, his other best friend, who was madly and openly in love with Lily Evans, if the hypothetical situation wasn’t starcrossed enough. James, his other best friend, whose ass Remus did not technically deny the attractiveness of the previous night. 

So the lie came spilling out faster than Remus’ body could control it. “You want to know?” he hissed, and Sirius sparked up like a new light bulb being used for the first time. “It’s James, alright. I’m in love with James.” 

Sirius glanced at James quickly, seeing James making his usual morning pass at Evans. “You’re fucking with me. James? Our James? Prongs?” 

“Yes.” No. “Why did you think I didn’t want to say anything? He’s one of my best friends. And, as far as we know, he’s straight. And even if he’s bi, he’s obviously in love with Evans. So I’m screwed either way.”

“Not necessarily,” Sirius whispered before turning to James and greeting him warmly, James who was both too early and too late. Remus was grateful that, once again, Sirius was able to diverge from any topics remotely relating Remus’ gayness, automatically asking James what he was talking about with Lily. This left Remus to stare at his plate, appetize vanished, and beg for some tornado to swallow him up and take him far away from the mess he had just made. The true misfortune was that was impossible, as James and Sirius followed him to the Library after breakfast, Remus frustratingly realizing they had the same Friday schedule as him. 

Remus did not know exactly how Sirius would react to his lie. There were versions of Sirius in his head: supportive, cautious, angry, jealous (that was Remus’ favorite option, as maybe it meant Sirius reciprocated). In reality, Sirius was quiet, in the same way a punch to your gut leaves you feeling empty. He seemed floating, unsure, out of place. Suddenly, Remus became aware that Sirius seemed out of place because he probably felt out of place, being the only one left out of the tragic love triangle destructive enough to end friendships but not noteworthy enough to be stored in the Flourish and Blotts Bestseller section. Unable to handle the uncharacteristic silence, Remus made an excuse to file through the books in the Restricted Section aimlessly. 

He was approached by James too soon after. Remus was unsure of how soon, specifically, but knew he needed more time. “Is Sirius okay, Remus” James asked. “Because he just pointed out your ass and told me how nice it is. Like, yeah, your pants fit you nicely, but I’m more interested in Evans not wearing any. Is he into you or something?” 

Remus scoffed. “I wish.” 

There was a book in Remus’ hand. Then, there wasn’t one. He turned to James, feeling like his shoulder brushed against the bookcase, making novels fall atop his head and back, but realized it was just the adrenaline that went pumping through his veins, because there was no way that he, Remus Lupin, known for a sound mind and the ability to hold his tongue, revered for his perfect verbiage that could get the Marauders out of any situation, just let it all out, all of his secrets, in a rather dry joke. But it had to be the case at the same time, as James stood absolutely frozen, looking exaggeratedly surprised, and Remus could feel his entire body losing balance. 

James Potter was known for many things: loving Quidditch, inventing the shit-eating grin, pining publically over Lily Evans. But these were the traits most candid, obvious, the ones that were too true to his personality to be overseen by even the most oblivious of observers. What those observers failed to recognize were the pieces of James that were kept under the layers of knowing him, like how he was always the latest to wake up yet the earliest to go to bed, that he organizes his clothes by color, and that he is, by Remus’ highly biased standard, the best at knowing when people lie, and the most ruthless about calling them out on it. 

So there was no reason to respond with anything except the absolute truth after James asked, “Remus, do you fancy him?” It was quiet and stern and another secret layer of James’ personality. 

“I don’t not fancy him,” Remus responded. He should be picking up the book that fell, the one book. 

James took Remus by the shoulders, an action reserved for the most intense of conversations, so Remus’ body stiffened, not by the act itself but what it meant. “Listen.” His expression was cold, his jaw hardened. “I know what you liking Sirius means. I’m not an idiot. And if it’s true, you know I’m fine with it. _All_ of it. So please, stop acting like we’re in first year, and answer me honestly.” 

“James,” Remus muttered. “Sirius might see.” His eyes flicked over to the desk, where Sirius sat, still too quietly for comfort. 

“Why does that matter? It’s not like _I’m_ the one…” The apologetic smile on Remus’ face was what disintegrated the end of James’ sentence into nothingness, just for another to burst out aggressively. “Wait. Does Sirius think you fancy me?” 

“Not exactly.” Remus’ eyes drifted, hand snaking around the back of his neck, rubbing. 

“Remus.” 

“He thinks I’m in love with you.” His whole body admitted it, arms falling, body lurching forwards. Like it was a part of him being separated from deep within. 

“And you’re not?” Remus answered with his body again; his eyes narrowed in a glare. “Your loss, Moons,” James continued. “I’m a catch.” And Remus’ eyes only narrowed further, causing James to step back, finally, with his arms in surrender and Remus’ internal normalcy regained. Remus liked James from a distance, that was the difference between him and Sirius. Sirius who could literally share bodies with Remus and it wouldn’t be enough; Remus would need him closer still. 

“You know I was just trying to make a joke. Ease the tension.” James’ eyes were filled with a momentary guilt which drained away when Remus forced a smile onto his face (as if James hadn’t memorized the picture of Remus’ fake smile). Yet James had his hands lodged in his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet, looked down at them, too, or really anywhere that wasn’t Remus’ face while muttering a few beginnings of sentences that never had a finish. 

“James?” Remus nearly whispered, hoping the softness of the delivery would coax some brightness back into him.

And it did, causing him to jump up as if unaware Remus was standing just a couple of feet away. “Sorry,” he stuttered out, “my mind’s just, like, exploding”—he put his hands up by his head in fists and shot his fingers out for emphasis—“with all these questions now. But I don’t want to ask unless you’re comfortable or overstep any boundaries or anything so, like, are you okay with it? Me asking you some things?” 

No longer was Remus’ smile artificial; he could feel how it was honest and warm on his face as he chuckled at James’ uncertainty. “Of course you can ask me.” 

James nodded vigorously, looking down still, looking slightly out of it and entirely overwhelmed with himself. “Okay,” he said once he decided on a question, “first, have you always known?”

“Nope.” Remus decided to answer as simply as possible, since James was having such difficulty forming sentences, so probably could barely process them, as well. 

“Then what made you find out?” 

Remus could not resist the chuckle that fell out of his mouth, didn’t feel it forming in his throat before it was out of it. “You know the summer before fifth year, when I was at King’s Cross waiting for you and Sirius?” James nodded, his eyes widening. “Well, I kind of fell in love with Sirius that day.” 

 

His face fell slack, his mouth and eyes drooping. His voice was quiet, but not in the way where it’s more horrifying than a yell, but in the way that sounded like he was saying a lullaby. “You’ve known for almost two years?” 

“Well, I figured my reaction was just over exaggerated since I hadn’t seen Sirius in months. And he looked so different. He really grew up that summer, and finally didn’t have to cut his hair and got substantial amounts of food, and I was really shocked, since I’ve never seen him look so good. But it was a process. Like, I realized guys always caught my attention a way that girls never did. So Sirius just got the ball rolling, I guess.” 

“And are you still,” James took a breathless pause there, making Remus’ eyebrow cock up, “are you still in love with him?” 

“Yeah,” Remus exhaled. “Insanely. So much it hurts sometimes.” He glanced over at Sirius who was patiently flipping through the pages of a textbook, trying to find something that interested him, and realized he had lied: it always hurt, loving someone as beautiful and kind and warm as Sirius and never having a chance.

James’ voice pulled his eyes away reluctantly, always reluctantly. “Did you not come out to me earlier because you were afraid Sirius would somehow figure this all out?” Remus wanted to cry. James didn’t even accuse Remus of keeping a secret from him. He spoke perfectly without trying, a gift Remus wished James could grant him. Lately all of his words have been both practiced and incorrect. 

“I’m sorry.” It was a whisper, a battlesong, a cry. It was a breath, a million words wrapped into two, a diversion. It was the truth. 

James twitched, like he wanted to grab out for Remus, but restricted. He probably was going to, Remus realized, but remembered Remus’ earlier concern for Sirius seeing this, so decided to stay professional. Friendly. Perfect. Without even needing to be asked. 

“If you think I’m mad, you’re insane, Moony,” James said. “We just can’t do this here. There are too many people.” 

“Do what?” 

“Talk.” The delivery was painfully dry and made Remus feel stupid. “You know, I only started openly pursuing Evans a year after I knew I liked her? Obviously, that’s nothing compared to you and Sirius, but, still. You need someone to open up to, and I’m your best bet.” 

“Sirius is going on a date tomorrow,” Remus reminded James, which reminded himself, which made his heart positively shrivel. 

For a minute James looked torn between frowning and smiling, but picked the latter, knowing Remus’ words were not a complaint– entirely– but a detail that would help them form a plan. “Brilliant, Moons. We’ll go to Hogsmeade while he does. We can get Butterbeer and talk without him to distract or censor.” For the first time in the conversation, James seemed like James, all bright and flowery. Sometimes Remus swore he was made out of sunshine. And it made him feel safe. Safe enough to tread into dangerous thoughts. 

“But, Prongs, what if Pads thinks it’s a date?” A follow-up question graced Remus’ mind: “what if Sirius doesn’t want it to be a date?” He didn’t say it out loud, not quite ready to be that pathetically in love with Sirius to James’ face, as if Remus didn’t just lie about being in love with him to make sure Sirius didn’t know the truth. At least James had the decency not to laugh. 

But James didn’t contain the decency to not cock his eyebrow up at Remus and grin. He had a different smirk than Sirius’: it didn’t feel as genuine because it contradicted his made-out-of-sunshine demeanor, but it was just as brutally devilish through and through.

James laughed before asking, “Well, don’t you want him to think it is?” He proceeded to step forwards, not into Remus but into his space, leaving Remus feeling claustrophobic and uncomfortable. To make matters worse, Remus felt something nudging at his elbow, looking down to discover James’ fingers holding it in a strangely intimate manner for a joint.

“What are you doing?” Remus hissed, trying to pull away but afraid to knock books from their organized shelves. 

“Flirting,” James responded while struggling to keep Remus in his grasp. “Or at least trying to. If you’d just calm down.” 

Remus felt stutters, but not in the flushed way that happened when he was asked a question while staring at Sirius, in the way where he couldn’t find words to describe the situation at hand. “James… what are you… is this really the best… you know I was lying when I told Sirius I told you I was in love with you, right?” 

“You know Sirius didn’t realize you were lying when you told him you were in love with me, right?” Even if Sirius did see, Remus doubted this would look like flirting, anyways, with James and Remus staring each other down. “I’m trying to help here, Moony.” 

“He knows you’re straight.” 

“I thought the same about you yesterday.” And suddenly, Remus realized he wasn’t truly trying to escape earlier, not with all of his strength and intention, so set to do so now, seizing his arm out of James’ grip and turning to leave. James seized him yet again, this time by the fingers, and now, maybe, this could have been interpreted as flirtatious. “Rem, listen to me. If he didn’t realize you loved him for an entire two years, we can pull this off. You need time to scream about your feelings and figure out what you’re going to do. And what does a hand on an elbow mean really? I’ve kissed you on the lips before–” 

“That’s different,” Remus spat. “I wasn’t out then. Sirius couldn’t have jumped to any conclusions.” 

James’ voice softened. “You’re really scared of him finding out, aren’t you?” Without the ability to verbally express the extent to which James’ statement was true, Remus nodded, feeling his body cave in on itself. “Blimey, Remus, I haven’t seen you this scared about anything since you told us about your furry little problem.” James took a minute to consider Remus, who was trying to absorb himself into the bookshelf while biting his lip so harshly, Remus could feel the parting of skin, the beginning of the saltiness of blood. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t flirt with you like I flirt with Lily. But I do think it’s a good idea to at least go to Hogsmeade, as discussed. Because I don’t think you can handle keeping these feelings to yourself anymore, and, honestly, I don’t think I can let you, seeing how hard it’s been on you.” 

It was looking up that made Remus realize he was staring at James’ untied oxfords. As his eyes made their way up, Remus noticed James’ mouth in a deep set frown, his cheeks sagging, and finally looked into James’ eyes, which were big and brown and full of an impossible amount of worry. Now, Remus was the one to initiate contact, grabbing his best friend’s hand in his, grasping fingers as opposed to intertwining, and realized that touching James was the same sensation as letting hot chocolate warm his body, whereas touching Sirius was like putting his finger in an electrical socket and nearly dying. “When we go to Hogsmeade,” Remus said, “I choose where we go, alright?” 

All James did was smile.


	6. "We Couldn't Be Better"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Sirius' POV

Most people would argue Remus Lupin was not born to be stared at. Instead, he grew into it, developed the aura of effortless allure through the earning of scars, development of freckles, broadening of shoulders. But Sirius’ attraction was the antithesis: he started staring at Remus from the moment they met, and never stopped, no matter the amount of concentration he put into refocusing his eyes. And beyond the typical slightly painful wistfulness it created, looking seemed to do no harm to Sirius’ rattling heart. 

But, sitting in the Library, hearing Remus’ voice ever so slightly, knowing he was in between some bookshelves with the man he loved, maybe even pushed up against him… suddenly Sirius saw looking at Remus as a dangerous thing. So he opened up a textbook for the first time in months and focused on every line and curve of the font, read each syllable of each word carefully in his head before moving onto the next. It was working until it wasn’t, until Sirius realized the only thing worse than looking was not looking. 

Because not looking meant Sirius’ mind could go in any which direction it pleased, making him imagine scenes of Remus’ face flushed pink at James’ words; James stepping into Remus’ personal space so close it was like they were one body; James leaning in, so slowly it seems like the accident it isn’t, and pressing his lips to Remus’; Remus putting his hand into James’ curls— 

Sirius snapped his head up so fast it should have given him whiplash. His eyes bore into the sight of Remus and James close together, fingers interlocking, and it could have been worse but it also could have been much better. Because, it wasn’t like James hadn’t drunkenly kissed Sirius and Remus before, or that he didn’t ask to be held during storms (Sirius adamantly denied he liked the comfort, too), or wasn’t constantly hanging over Remus’ tall frame. But this was different, intentional, perhaps romantic. And it made Sirius shrivel up into himself like a dying flower. 

It took them too long to get back and they were smiling too widely. Like something had happened because something did. Disturbing their adoring glances at one another was Remus’ sudden shout of “I forgot the book!” to which he left rapidly to go pick up the abandoned novel. 

Sirius cleared his throat, but it still felt full of gravel. “So, that went well, didn’t it?” 

James face was in his textbook. “Yeah,” he replied casually, not breaking focus. 

“So, uh, what did you guys talk about?” He didn’t mean to keep stuttering, damn it, but how could he not?

“Hogsmeade.” It was too inattentive again. “We’re going together this weekend.” 

Time stopped. Or maybe it sped up, Sirius wasn’t sure. His head was dizzy and his heart was pounding into his body so harshly Sirius thought his heart might rip a hole through it and fall out of his back.

“What?” Sirius asked, not even trying to conceal the breathlessness of it. “Like, just you two?” 

James only nodded in answer, and the little gasp Sirius hated himself for making caused James to glance up, eyes full of a mischievous Marauder gleam. “What, does that bother you?” 

Suddenly, Sirius felt the urge to stand up on the table, kicking the textbooks and quills and parchment and ink bottles aside in the process, and scream down at James that yes, of course it bothered him that Remus and James were practically going on a first date. That James got to hear Remus’ wild laugh and comb through his curls and melt under his warm gaze. That he got to touch Remus’ skin and kiss Remus like he was the only important thing ever created because he really was. 

“No,” Sirius said, disgusted by the unconvincing whisper it came out as. “No, not at all.” A devilish thought crossed his mind, and in the mixture of helplessness and jealousy that had been consuming his soul, Sirius rode through it, causing him to lean back in his chair cooly and cross his arms. “I’m just wondering,” he began again, “what this means about you and Lily. That’s all.” 

Sirius hated how he basked in the split-second of fear that shook James’ facial features, so short-lived only someone who knew James like Sirius did could detect it. His voice was still smooth as he replied, “Lily and I never existed. It was just me, liking her, and her not reciprocating.” He shuddered there, just momentarily, before continuing: “Besides, I’ve got other things to look forwards to.” 

As if James planned it—he probably did, the devil—Remus sat down then, next to him, book in hand and smile positively gleaming. And that smile never ceased, not through Divination or lunch or running into Snivellus headfirst in the Corridors or even a Double Potions lesson. It was as inexhaustible as it was alluring, and Sirius could have sworn he saw it glowing on Remus’ face in the pale moonlight. But Sirius knew for a fact the scowl that had developed on his own face was still strong when he fell asleep, feet kicking, head dreaming of Remus. 

Sirius was the first to wake up, which was a true testament to how unsettled he felt. He rubbed his eyes to adjust to the sunlight, which gave off the same constant, featherlight buzz that spread across his skin when watching Remus smile. Usually silence—–except for the loud snores James let out—–unnerved Sirius, made his skin itch, and Sirius would force himself back to sleep until the creak of Remus’ bed woke him a few hours later. But it was so quiet. So stunningly lacking in the noise Sirius typically attracted, and he found himself not only tolerating it, but basking in it. It was the first true time to think and Sirius realized he needed it, desperately. 

Because it had been a whirlwind of 13 hours. One that never ended and only grew, as if chaos had a goal of consuming Sirius entirely (it was succeeding). So Sirius closed his eyes and breathed with intentional depth, splaying a hand over his chest to feel the rise and fall of it, let the slow pace clear his clouded mind. He finally could wander across the questions that popped into his head but had yet to be explored: how long has Remus loved James? Does James suspect Sirius is as jealous as he is? Does James think their Hogsmeade trip is a date, like Sirius does? Is his jealousy apparent? 

The shifting of Remus’ mattress caused Sirius to forget the questions, forget the even breathing, to peek up at the bed across the room. He watched as Remus’ long body rolled around, kicking slightly, before settling into position. Still asleep, Remus whispered, in such a muffled tone Sirius wouldn’t have been able to decipher it if he wasn’t always focusing on the shapes Remus’ lips make, “James.” 

So Sirius lowered his head back onto his pillow, with the type of slowness that only comes as a result of anguish. He focused on keeping his breathing both even and deep, his tears few and far between, as he heard Remus get up and begin his day obnoxiously early. For the first time in history, James was the second to wake up. He heard them exchange a few quiet words, some laughter that was loud at first then hushed down, heard one of them hum (Remus) and one of them whistle (James). He could have stayed there forever, willingly, letting his thoughts destroy him one by one, if it weren’t for the realization James always got up slightly past ten and he agreed to meet Ollie at eleven. 

He sat up while screaming, “shit,” so loudly it rung in his ears. But Sirius didn’t care as he raced through the dorm, from one end to the other to the other, finding his missing shoe and searching for that one hair tie that had to be on the ground somewhere. It was James that stopped him, one hand on each of Sirius’ shoulders, and Sirius almost fell into him. 

“What is the matter with you?” James asked. With the revelations that Sirius had discovered throughout the past day, if he were in a different situation, Sirius may have laughed throatily, like some kind of villain, and say, “Everything,” with the haunting quality that would make James and Remus’ stomachs turn. 

He instead settled on a reply more in line with his urgency: “Ollie told me to meet him at the fountain at eleven for our date and I know you always sleep past ten and I slept later than you and now I’m going to be late.” The run-on delivery made him breathless, and once again Sirius felt gravity pushing him into James’ arms. 

“It’s okay, mate,” James assured, with that calming, reassuring look in his eyes. “It’s only 10:15. You’ve got loads of time.” 

So Sirius’ mind unfogged and he straightened his body up, clearing his throat, but it still felt full of gravel. He wondered if that sensation would ever go away, but it couldn’t now, not when James was in front of him and Remus was to his left and they were going to Hogsmeade today, together, just the two of them. It made Sirius’ question come out with an unusual level of uncertainty. “So, uh, when are you two leaving, then?” 

Sirius was looking at Remus when he asked, because he was always looking at him, even before the scars and freckles and shoulders, but James answered. “I’ve got the team starting practice at 10:45. I reckon it will probably be at least 1:30 once we get down there, since I’ve got to shower and all.” 

“And Remus, what are you going to do, if you have anything to do, that is, while waiting?” Sirius asked Remus. He wanted to force himself into thinking the question was genuine, when in reality, he knew he needed a reason to be looking at Remus for so long. 

Broad shoulders shrugged in response. “Studying. Reading. The usual.” 

“And, do you, uh, know where you’ll be going? In Hogsmeade?” 

“The Three Broomsticks,” Remus replied, and the way James nodded made Sirius aware this was one of their whisper conversations from earlier. 

Even when they first met, three boys from different homes that would unknowingly build one together, their conversations were not as awkward and distant. They all showed it in different ways: Remus closing his body into himself, Sirius stuttering, James talking at a normal volume for once. The air was stiff with artificial conversation as Sirius got ready, wishing he had a reason to rush and escape, but unwilling to show it in earnest. He braided his hair with careful consideration, placing flowers in it with an even more detailed hand, tried on several outfits even though he had decided on one the night before, tied his shoelaces neatly. It was forty-five minutes that felt like forty-five hours. 

And he probably could have rushed, damn it, because as he approached the fountain he realized Ollie must have arrived at least fifteen minutes before. He was leaning far too comfortably against the marble to not have been waiting, and had that casual calmness on his face of someone who is waiting for something, someone, to arrive. Sirius wished he could feel dizzy at the gesture. At the impossibly wide smile Ollie gave Sirius as soon as Ollie realized it was him. 

“Sirius!” Ollie exclaimed it, with so much warmth it could have made Sirius feel like the rest of the world around him ceased to exist. Should have. Didn’t. 

He smiled while saying Ollie’s name, because he truly was happy to see him. But it wasn’t the right smile, the sweet kind he gave to Remus, smaller but with more depth, as he soaked in every wide freckle or every black eyelash and could keep doing so forever. It was joyful but fell short in the adoring aspect, and painfully so. Luckily, Ollie didn’t realize, so asked Sirius with uninhibited enthusiasm where he’d like to go.

And of course Sirius knew the answer, had it in the back of his mind from the moment the name slipped through Remus’ lips. “The Three Broomsticks, if that’s alright with you. I’m really in the mood for a Butterbeer.” Only half of it was a lie, but Ollie didn’t know, so kept smiling as he led the two of them to Hogsmeade, hand on the small of Sirius’ back in a way that could have made him crumble if only it were someone else. 

The conversation they shared was limited by the bounds of politeness and lightheartedness, but could never even slightly compare to the discomfort overflowing in the one Sirius was a part of earlier that morning. So his body relaxed into the words he spoke and the ones Ollie responded with. In truth, it was the other way around: Ollie mostly asking questions first, to which Sirius replied in inadequate detail, so Ollie would offer his full-fledged answer as if suggesting it was okay for Sirius to say more, to open up. It wasn’t much to open up to, either: mostly favorite classes, worst teachers, best pranks, dream careers (Ollie’s was being the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures). But Sirius kept finding a lack of words at the base of his throat, and it killed him. 

The one shimmering gleam of hope was when Ollie began talking about his family once they had entered Hogsmeade. “I’ve got a little brother that’s starting next year,” he mentioned while staring up at the buildings. “He’s incredibly nervous and keeps writing me these long letters about everything that could go wrong.” 

Sirius laughed, partially because it was amusing, partially because it sounded like something Remus would do. “What’s his name?” Sirius asked. 

“Oliver.” Sirius looked at Ollie, closed mouth full of mocking laughter, and knew by the way Ollie’s eyebrows were raised high and his lips were slightly pursed, this reaction was normal. But the stiffness of his face broke with a small chuckle, causing Sirius to explode into laughter. “I’m not kidding, you know!” he said. 

“I didn’t say you were,” Sirius replied, each word separated by a beat of laughter. 

Ollie kept snickering. “Well, most people assume I am. I guess it’s just that ridiculous.” 

“No,” Sirius smiled. “It’s cute. Ollie and Oliver. Oliver and Ollie.” He kept considering the names through repetition, quietly, as Ollie opened the door to the Three Broomsticks wearing a stupid grin and for a moment, Sirius thought they could look like a couple that had cute nicknames and inside jokes to the witches and wizards who viewed their entry. Sirius watched Ollie ordering them Butterbeer, paying for both—the absolute gentleman—while playfully bantering with Steph, who was busy bartending, and his aura was so simplistically warm that Sirius realized he could do this. Forget Remus, date Ollie, be happy. But when they sat down—Ollie had pushed Sirius’ chair out for him, of course—and Sirius’ eyes kept flickering between the door and the clock and Ollie’s freckle-covered face, he noticed that possibility was only momentary. 

Especially when the door opened, revealing Remus and James, who kept looking at one another so sweetly Sirius got a stomach ache. And Sirius was sitting down, observing their entrance like the witches and wizards that had watched his and Ollie’s. and he realized they looked like a couple with cute nicknames and inside jokes, too. So Sirius put his soul into paying attention to Ollie. But, Remus Lupin was born to be looked at, and Sirius Black was born to look at him. 

The action was not without consequence: Remus’ eyes fluttered up at Sirius’, and upon making contact Remus whispered something into James’ ear and they were gone. The urge to get up and follow surged through Sirius’ body. He rode it through like a tidal wave, leaving his heart beating unevenly while reluctantly in his seat. 

“Whatcha looking at?” Ollie asked, to which Sirius muttered something incoherent while turning back to face him. He then smiled at Ollie in a way that was so overflowing with reassurance, it uncovered the fact something was terribly wrong.

So his voice came out more distant this time, contrasting his still-luminous grin. “Can I ask you something?” He was twiddling his fingers against the side of his cup, which only held a few drops of Butterbeer. Sirius nodded with similar emptiness. “You have seemed rather… distracted today. Is everything alright?”

As usual, Sirius went to brighten his smile to transition into a flawlessly executed lie, but stumbled at the sight of concern in Ollie’s eyes. So his gaze fell down to his Butterbeer glass, hands wrapped around it firmly, watching the ripples created in the liquid as he spoke. “No, actually.” It was said as the secret it was, quietly and cautiously. 

Ollie’s features crinkled together. “Do you want to tell me about it?” 

So used to sinking in breaths, holding in words, Sirius surprised himself with the nodding of his head and admission of, “that would be great,” that he exhaled through his mouth. He looked up and Ollie was beaming, of course, because even if he knew the truth, he was constructed of ceaseless joy. Even while knowing this, Sirius still exercised caution: “You're not going to like what I have to say.” 

“Does it have to do with whoever walked through the door just now?” Ollie asked. Sirius barely had time to look confused as he continued, answering the question forming in Sirius’ throat by saying, “I heard the little bell ring. You nearly jumped out of your seat.” 

Sirius laughed, because it was funny, so funny that he could be on a date with an amazing man and only be thinking about Remus so ardently it became obvious. “It was Remus and James,” he clarified.

Ollie leaned forwards at this, eyes wide. “Like, on a date?” Sirius nodded yet shrugged, because as much as he felt like he knew, he didn’t. Ollie cleared his throat before asking, “and which one are you jealous of?” 

Sirius tried to look shocked, appalled, confused, anything that might make it seem like Ollie was off course. But he was sweet and safe and genuinely nice and deserved the truth, Sirius decided. Especially if he couldn’t have his adoration towards Sirius reciprocated. So Sirius breathed out and answered. 

“James.” 

“Oh.” It was the quietest word to have ever exited Ollie’s mouth. 

“I’m so sorry,” Sirius said. “I just thought, maybe, because you’re so sweet and kind and funny, if I let myself, I could get over him. I really wasn’t trying to waste your time, or anything... ” 

Ollie laughed, and he looked at Sirius like he had a halo on his head, as opposed to a flower-crown. “I know you wouldn’t. Which sucks, because then I don’t get to hate you out of spite.” His candidness made Sirius join in on the laughter, and suddenly it was all around him, mixing with Ollie’s, and everything could have been lovely, but it would have been wrong, too. 

“So, we’re all right?” Sirius asked, not even trying to mask his doubt. Accentuating it, even. 

And Ollie was smiling, still, always, because that’s what he did. “We couldn’t be better,” he promised.

Still, something ached inside of Sirius’ stomach, twisting it. It wasn’t guilt; it didn’t weigh him down in the right way, make him feel like his skin was paper and his bones were boulders. It was long and drawn out, as if someone stabbed a knife in him and was maliciously pulling it out of his body. All of the sudden, exhaustion filled him up, so aggressively Ollie took notice. “Let me walk you back to your Common Room,” he offered, and did, after giving Steph a warm smile as they departed. It was a quieter walk back, but bird chirps cut through the silence of fatigue, as Ollie helped support Sirius’ weight and Sirius watched thin clouds streaking across the skyline. 

Ollie followed through with his promise, of course, and he and Sirius stood in front of the Fat Lady in no time. “Thank you,” Sirius said quietly. 

“Of course,” Ollie smiled, because it was endless, his joy. Sirius was already turning to open the portrait, but stopped and rotated back when Ollie asked, “and Sirius?” Then, they were looking at one another again. “Good luck.” 

Sirius watched him walk away, until his denim jacket could no longer be seen, before entering into the Common Room. Though Sirius expected the Common Room to be less full than a normal weekend, he didn’t expect it to be empty. Or, empty except for Lily, whose legs draped across the armrest of a cushy chair, nose stuck in a novel. 

“Lils?” Sirius asked. Her head whipped up so fast, Sirius was surprised her reading glasses weren’t sent flying. 

A raw,authentic smile broke out onto Lily’s face upon realizing who stood before her. “Sirius! How was the big date?” 

He couldn’t resist the laughter that bubbled out of his throat as he said, “Pretty awful, actually.” Without needing an invitation, Sirius walked over to the couch nearest to where Lily’s chair was placed, sitting down at the edge. His neck was strained downwards at his combat boots. “I ended it.” 

“And why?” Lily asked, being both inquisitive and accusatory. Sirius could feel her eyes digging into his frame.

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about Remus the entire time.” There was a small thud, and Sirius knew it was Lily’s book, toppled on the floor, and that she’d probably hate herself for losing her page later, but that didn’t matter right now. What did matter, according to her body being placed next to Sirius’ and arm draped around his shoulders within seconds, was him looking more pathetic than he ever had in his seventeen years of living. 

With her free hand, Lily rubbed up and down Sirius’ right arm. “Does Ollie know?” 

“Yeah,” Sirius whispered, hating that it sounded as weak as he felt. “I couldn’t lie to him.” 

Lily’s voice was faint and gentle like her touches. “Then you did absolutely everything right,” she assured. “I can tell you’re beating yourself up. But there’s no reason to. You didn’t string Ollie along and had the decency to tell him the truth. And you can’t help how you feel about Remus. So, as far as I’m concerned, you handled everything perfectly.” 

Sirius had so much fire left in him, so much disagreement, but he was tired and desolate and his body hadn’t stopped aching. So instead of fighting, he lay his head against Lily’s shoulder. It rolled onto her chest, so Sirius listened to the steady pace of her heartbeat, battering in a constant rhythm, until he heard pounding feet and lightness of laughter disrupt the consistency. 

Sirius lifted his head out of Lily’s red hair to find Remus and James entering into the Common Room, swinging bags of Honeydukes sweets and smiling. But in a moment it was all gone—grins were replaced by concerned frowns, laughter by silence, and candy bags almost fell to the floor in shock—after they glanced at Sirius’ body, crumpled in on itself, looking undeniably as helpless as he felt.


	7. "Well That's Soft"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Remus' POV

There was an open book atop Remus’ chest, worn-down pages pressing against the thin cotton shirt he wore. Time and time again he had lifted it up over his head, trying to find motivation or entrancement, or something in between, but nothing allowed him to follow the story for more than a few sentences before getting bored. Or, rather, distracted, by the thought of Sirius Black with someone who wanted to hold his hand and play with his hair and kiss him. Someone who could be doing all of those things, as far as Remus knew, right at that very moment. Remus had to restrain himself from sending his fist through the dorm room’s wall. 

He was staring down the wooden panels when the door next to them opened, exposing James behind it, whose mouth was open as if he was going to speak before closing momentarily at the sight of Remus’ expression. “Gee, mate. I know I’m a tad on the late side, but you don’t need to kill me over it.” He laughed to himself, smile too bright for Remus’ perpetual state of gloom, while making his way across the dorm to Remus’ bed. 

Without permission he laid down next to Remus, forcing him to scoot over. But James didn’t lay with his head towards the ceiling, like Remus did—like normal people did, Remus thought to himself—but rather faced Remus body with his weight leaned into his elbow, hand supporting his scrunched up face. His eyes were full of playfulness. “Why so sad,” he pouted. 

Remus huffed while turning around on his side in order to avoid James. “Let me mourn,” he groaned. For the first time—Remus slept in a crumpled ball, and so never needed it before— he wished for a larger bed, anything to get away from James’ sticky skin that reeked of sweat and dirt, which was pressing up against his back. 

“C’mon, Moony,” he sang in that decisively James manner. “It’s going to be a fun day! I swear! You just need to get ready to go now.” In response Remus moaned. “Okay then,” James sighed. “I guess I have no other choice than to start tickling you.” And Remus’ feet hit the floor before James’ hands could even get near the skin of his arm. He jumped back, away from the edge of the mattress, to face James, who was almost rolling around the bedsheets in laughter. 

“Fine, I’m up,” Remus grumbled, hating how his annoyance didn’t faze James in the slightest. “What took you so long, anyways?” 

“Ran into Evans.” He said her name with less adoration than usual, a casual shrug gracing his shoulders. and Remus would have asked if something occurred between the two of them if James’ hadn’t continued speaking. “She feels like she’s coming down with something.” 

“That’s too bad,” Remus said, a small grunt and nod from James showing he agreed. “Do you think she’ll make the game tomorrow? I know you probably want her there.”   
‘Of course I do…” James’ sentence trailed off into nothingness as he stared down at his lap, looking dazed, as if he was having trouble comprehending his own words. Remus almost asked if he was alright, but he snapped up, sitting up in a harsh and energetic motion. “But enough about that,” he said. The smile had returned, but it seemed more strained than usual. “Today is about us having a good time, talking about our crushes and venting. So get your ass out of your pajamas, Lupin. I’m going to go shower.”

He headed to the bathroom quickly, passing by Remus’ frozen body, not giving him the chance to argue or ask questions or do anything except listen. The book Remus was had open on his chest mere minutes before was now on the floor in a similar open position, so Remus picked that up before starting his morning ritual at midday. He was on step four, tying shoes, when he heard the bathroom door open again and saw the steam roll into their bedroom. 

James waltzed back through the dorm with a towel around his waist. “I know you’re on step four,” he said, not bothering to look at Remus while addressing him, making the accuracy that much more impressive, “but you can go back to steps two and three now. I’m all done in the bathroom” 

Step two was brushing his hair, step three brushing his teeth. He did both greatly annoyed by the fog on the mirror, on which he wrote “fuck you, James,” between tasks, fully aware that James wouldn’t actually see it but still proud of the action. 

To his surprise, when he re-entered the bedroom, James was already ready to go; he was slumped against the wall next to the door frame, wallet out, counting Galleons stuffed in the pocketed sleeves. Remus’ footsteps creaking against the wooden flooring caused his gaze to shift upward. A smile grew on his lips. “You ready?” There was a rich excitement in his tone, bubbly and bright, which contrasted starkly with the emptiness of Remus’ simple nod. But Remus couldn’t help it: words were vanishing at his throat in confusion because James Potter was staring him up and down in an oddly inquisitive manner. 

“What?” Remus snapped. The visual interrogation was making him feel uncomfortably exposed.

James was smiling, softly, warmly. “Nothing.” His eyes flicked up to Remus’. “You look nice.” 

“Shove off,” Remus scoffed, opening the door and leaving it ajar behind him. He could hear James vaguely muttering a handful of different protests as he made his way down the staircase, the sounds of shouting getting louder and louder as James caught up to the step behind Remus. 

“You have to cheer up, Remus,” he said. “It’s not my fault Sirius is on a date with someone else. I’m just trying to cheer you up and that jumper does look very good with your skin tone. So please, for the love of God, will you promise you’ll stop being an insufferable pain?” 

Now at the base of the the staircase, Remus turned and looked at James, their eyes level, hazel against brown. “I’m sorry.” He bounced back and forth between his now-planted feet, shoving his hands deep into his jean pockets. As if his stance did not say it enough, Remus muttered, so quietly he was surprised James even heard it, “I’m just nervous.” 

James’ eyebrows pinched together, his jawline tightening. “Why?” 

“Because… because it feels weird that I’m going to be talking about Sirius with you in this way.” 

It felt relieving to say the truth; Remus’ shoulders relaxed and he exhaled deeply. He should have felt even more relieved when James answered, “Mate, I literally never shut up about Evans.” 

The truth in it made Remus laugh, the difference of it made Remus grimace. “But Sirius is like your brother, James. It seems weird.” 

“Moons, look at me.” Remus hadn’t noticed his gaze was on a pair of black Converse as opposed to the hazel eyes he met once again within seconds. They had a demand to them, yet remained soft—James’ eyes never did anything without at least a sliver of softness. They made Remus feel safe. “Yes, Sirius is one of my best friends,” James continued, “but that doesn’t make your feelings for him weird to me. If anything, I out of everyone understand where you’re coming from the most. So just say what you want to say. But don’t feel pressured. I have enough to say about Lily I can just talk about her the entire time, if necessary.” 

And Remus’ eyes were back on those white laces, black rubber gums, silver eyelets. “Thanks,” he murmured, wishing it was louder, hoping it was sincere. Because, without James, Remus may have combusted or caved in on himself at this point. 

“C’mon,” James ushered, voice tender and breathy, hand on Remus’ shoulder, guiding him around and to the Common Room door. For a while, they walked in comfortable silence, James never looking at Remus for long enough to suggest pressure, just fondness. Remus revelled in the warm afternoon air spreading against his cheeks, the wisps of air sweeping his hair in his face, feeling gloriously peaceful for the first time in days. 

They were crossing the bridge, just the two of them—even the breeze calmed down then, as though knowing he would need privacy— and Remus spoke. “I just, ugh,” he sighed, “I just want to kiss him all the time.” 

James peered over at him, eyebrows up suggestively, and the first thought that struck Remus was how similar this reaction was to how James looked at him after speaking to Steph. The second thought was that James wasn’t lying: he truly didn’t have an issue talking about Sirius in this way. Remus felt like screaming, his lungs so full of fresh life it was overwhelming. 

But he listened to James speak instead. “I know what you mean, mate. Wanting to kiss Evans is like a state of being for me. Especially when she wears that lip gloss”—he blew out a breath here— “I nearly pass out, Moony.” 

Remus chuckled. “Yeah, at least Sirius hasn’t started borrowing Lily’s lip gloss. He talked about it once, and just the thought was enough to make me feel like I was being flung into the fucking sun.” 

Obviously, Remus had struck a chord deep inside of James, as he began talking with minimal breathing between words and wild arm gestures that seemed to sweep the air in all directions. “Okay, so I have this idea that if I somehow find out where she gets that stuff and buy some for myself, then, obviously, my lips would look that tempting, and she would have to kiss me. Thoughts?” 

The laughter that boomed out of Remus’ stomach—restricting words from forming, but he barely tried to talk before letting the laughter take over—didn’t only sound because James’ suggestion seemed absolutely bizarre, but because of the feeling of finally diving down into the depths of his heart to retrieve his innermost thoughts and having them validated rather than mocked. For the first time everything seemed so stunningly simple: loving Sirius, talking to James, confiding in Lily.

Until Remus saw Sirius and Ollie lounging in the Three Broomsticks after James graciously opened the door, the two now standing inside. Ollie and Sirius sat right across from the bordered window, and the dusty sunlight cast its nulling effects on everyone in the room—Ollie included—except for Sirius, who somehow shimmered golden under its muddied hue. The flowers in his hair were only assisting in making Sirius look like a dream vision, the cloudlike pastels contrasting with the even blackness of his braided hair and Remus would have dropped the Butterbeer cup if it weren’t for the fact James was holding it for him. Because he was on a date, as far as everyone else was concerned, with someone who didn’t shine in dusty sunlight, just faded into it. 

Remus wished he could fade into it—fade into anything, really— when, in the next moment, Sirius looked up at him, accidentally glittering and wearing a smile so radiant it had to be meant for Ollie, and it was all too much to think about in his dorm room that morning, book against his chest and heart scorching underneath it. But to see it? To see it was like forgetting to breathe and not wanting to remember how. 

So of course his whisper in James’ ear was ragged. “They’re here. We need to go.” James didn’t even look back, only nodding before sweetly requesting Pandora to switch the Butterbeers into to-go cups. She did, and Remus knew it was fast because it felt so painstakingly slow, that minute and a half—at most—of seeing Sirius with someone else, skin and bones and braids and all. 

He stumbled out into the streets of Hogsmeade, uneven cobblestone harsh against the thin rubber of his shoes. His head was spinning or maybe he was. From somewhere near him James kept asking if he was alright out of kindness, reassuring him everything would be fine out of dedication to his role. All Remus knew for certain was his heart felt like it was slowly being torn apart, miniscule milligram by miniscule milligram, and that he was leaning against a wall outside when a voice, sharper and higher-pitched than James’, called to him from the door he had just walked out of. 

“I’m here,” Remus said, detaching his back from the wall miraculously, considering he felt as though he had spent hours whipped around inside of a tornado. And in that simple action, Steph came into view, wearing a black apron and her hair in a bun. 

James greeted her first. The apparent tension in her smile foreshadowed her request: “James, is it alright if I steal Remus for a moment?” It was unusually stern for Steph’s sunshine demeanor and Remus wanted to run for his life. 

Noticing Remus’ wide eyes of fear, James’ agreement was muttered in reluctant helplessness of leaving. Pointing in no direction in particular, he mumbled, “I’ll just, uh, be off then,” before mouthing an apology to Remus and walking away with brisk, stumbling steps. 

With just as little eloquence and an even more uncertain posture— wandering eyes and a hand behind his neck, rubbing the nape of it— Remus asked, “Do we have to talk about this here? Now?” 

Steph’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion, but were softened by a small smile. “I’m not going to, like, scream at you for what you did in there. I was just wondering if I did something wrong.” 

Now it was Remus whose face was scrunched in a quizzical glance, but no smile was there to soften it. “What do you mean?” 

She chuckled while stating, “You’re ignoring me, Remus. Just in there”—she pointed to the Three Broomsticks’ door which, luckily for Remus, was not opening to expose Ollie or Sirius— “You saw me working the bar, whispered to James and left. Plus, you haven’t talked to me since we danced, even though I’ve waved at you in the halls. So what’s up?” 

Besides himself, Remus laughed, hating the way it mocked Steph’s concern but it was too funny, the fact that he didn’t even need to lie for his emotions to be misinterpreted. “I’m not ignoring you, Steph,” he assured. She crossed her arms in wordless reluctance to believe him, causing Remus to frown. “Okay, maybe I haven’t been great at talking to you, but it wasn’t intentional. I’m sorry.” 

“So you’re not mad at me or anything?” Steph inquired. Remus winced at the flicker of fear that sparked in her eyes before waning quickly. It send an invisible punch to his stomach, the thought of hurting her, even in the most miniscule of ways. 

“‘Course not,” Remus smiled, forgetting about Sirius and Ollie and James and the mess he had made for a moment and truly grinning, widely enough that his mouth swallowed the rest of his face up. But it was only a momentary retreat: 

“Well, then, what was all that about?” Steph asked, gesturing at the door again, and suddenly everything flooded back into Remus’ mind. She leaned her upper body closer into Remus, with a light tone of laughter on her lips, teasing him, saying, “You looked like you saw a ghost.” 

“You obviously haven’t seen me talking to Nearly Headless Nick, bored out of my mind,” Remus joked, partly because it was true, but mostly to try and divert the conversation. But Steph’s eyes were unblinking, body in a patient stasis,waiting for Remus to tell the truth. 

So he did. 

“It was Sirius, actually,” he breathed, unsure posture back in its full throttle. Steph’s lips pursed. “I just, I couldn’t see him on his date. I like him too much. It was too painful.” 

He said it almost as quietly as the silence that followed. Remus looked at Steph, eyes full of uncertainty, but hearing the whistles of breezes and steps of nearby students. It made his ears ring and his heart pound and Steph was still standing, just standing, still and sure, waiting. 

So Remus blew out a breath. “Are you going to say something?” The words seethed through his teeth. 

“Well,” she began, saying it carefully with her entire mouth wrapping around each letter, “if it’s for the same reason you left me after noticing he wasn’t alone at the party, the same reason you were stiff as a board when we were dancing, I don’t have much to say to you. I was just hoping you were really shy or something, or you heard some outrageous lie about me and wanted to stay away from me in a way that wouldn’t be too obvious.” 

“Why would you want that?” Remus asked, tilting his head. 

And Steph laughed again— she was always laughing— but this one was throatier, more genuine. “You know, for being at the top of our class, you can be an idiot sometimes.” Remus almost interrupted Steph to say, in that dark, self-loathing version of his voice, just how true that was, but was too shocked at Steph’s next words to form his own.

“I was hoping those things because I have a really massive crush on you.” 

Remus’ mouth dropped open. “What?” he yelled. It was childishly loud and made Steph laugh while nodding in reassurance. But Remus only truly believed her words due to the bright smile of honesty— the same kind of smile he wore after coming out to Sirius— that shone across her face, causing him to blush and scoff a bit.

“What?” Steph repeated, but this one was more defensive, as if Remus’ flustered face offended her in some way. 

“It’s nothing,” Remus chuckled. “Just… I never knew anyone would ever get a crush on me. It’s never happened before.” 

“You have to be wrong,” Steph said, mouth staying hung wide after her sentence was spoken. Remus only shook his head in response. “Well,” she continued, taking a deep breath, “I’m honored to be the first you know of. Even if you can’t like me back for… uh…” 

Remus looked at her slyly. “For obvious reasons?” The laughter it summoned was somewhat full and bright, allowing Remus to relax his shoulder blades he hadn’t even noticed he had been tensing before. 

“Yeah,” she replied. It was followed by a deep breath which was followed by a wordless pause as light spring wind gusted in the space between them, a distance which felt more definitive than ever. It felt odd; Remus was uncomfortable standing so far away from her, as if on display, but didn’t dare cross into her space after she poured her heart out to no gain. Yet, she continued to be incredibly sweet, incredibly Steph: “I hope everything works out for you, Remus,” she said, breaking the silence, with too much tenderness for it to be for show.

The initial snark and sarcasm was hard to fight back, the urge to say something like, “I’ll need a lot more than luck,” but with extreme focus Remus countered it, Steph's selflessness too admirable for Remus to make a joke out of. So with a small smile he thanked her, his voice quiet under the interruption of a sudden scream from somewhere behind him. In a confused rush he turned around. 

It was James, who was holding two bags of Honeydukes sweets in one hand and the other covering his eyes. “Sorry! Sorry!” he yelled. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just thought by now you’d be done.” 

Remus was busy rolling his eyes and smirking as Steph assured, “You’re fine, James. We are done.” Then, she turned her body to squarely face Remus once more, demanding his attention. “It was great talking to you,” she said with the kind of sweetness only sincerity possesses. Remus barely had time to agree before she left with just as much quiet grace with which she emerged from the doors.

When Remus turned back to look at James, he was met yet again with a sheepish look, prompting Remus to clutch James’ shoulder with his hand in a reassuring manner and smiling with a similar intent. The kind of smile Steph always gave, warm and soft and coaxing. He tried to speak in a similar tone too, light and fluttery yet strong, while promising, “It’s alright, mate.” 

Yet James stayed relentlessly uneasy while a large gulp shot down his throat. “It’s not that…” he trailed off, letting his free hand point over to the Three Broomsticks’ window and finish his thought for his mouth. With concern and breathlessness, he narrated what was happening, even though he knew Remus could tell himself: Ollie was pushing his chair out, looking as though he was ready to leave. 

The hand that was on James’ shoulder slipped down to his fingers—strong and muscular from years of Quidditch—and pulled him from close proximity to the Three Broomsticks with unceremonious scuttling. “Where are we going?” James panted as Remus pulled him through Hogsmeade embarrassingly fast, the pain his heart was rotting from the only thing making him not care about the turning of heads as they sprinted wildly. 

Even though he was losing breath, Remus was still able to respond with a harsh edge. “Where do you think?” he spat, eyes narrowed as he glanced back at James, continuing to lead them closer and closer to Black Lake. And he never stopped leading or running or holding, even though his lungs were dry and burning and his heartbeat rung in his earlobes, even though his feet were aching and his face hot, until they were at the shore and could see the blue water only a few metres away. Only once they were there did Remus drop James’ hand, fisting his own by his sides and shouting out a scream loud enough to produce ripples across the lake’s previously smooth surface and send birds flying out of nearby trees. 

James was panting behind Remus, his hands on his knees and body crouched over, did not react to the yell fearfully. “What… the… Hell… is… wrong… with… you?” he asked. “Are you trying to kill me or something?

“I’m a fucking Gryffindor and I can’t even tell Sirius how I feel,” he stated aggressively, with arms thrashing wildly, against his body’s will, which begged to rest, breath, release. “I know the worst that will happen isn’t the end of the world. Everyone keeps looking at me like I am over exaggerating, which I probably am. But I just know if I say something and he rejects me—which is horrible but survivable—I’ll still never get my best friend back. And I wish I could just get over this doubt and trust him as much as everyone else who knows about my feelings says I should. But I’m terrified and I hate it.” 

“What did Steph say to you?” James asked with the kind of distaste filled with blame. 

Remus finally breathed. It wasn’t enough by any means—his hands were shaking—but he still managed a mediocre exhale before admitting, “Steph told me she had a crush on me.” He stared at James, waiting for some sign of shock, but none appeared. “What? Are you seriously not surprised?” 

James chuckled and Remus wanted to smack him for laughing here, now, as he was in obvious distress. “Mate, you’re kidding, right?” Remus expected his blank expression answered for him, as James continued, “She was flirting with you at the party with all the teasing. She even found an excuse for physical contact. And I could see it when I was introducing you two in the stands. She is literally always the most put together person, warm but also very closed in, but you were making her blush like mad.” 

Remus’ eyebrows scrunched up. “Why didn’t you say something?” 

“Wasn’t my place,” James replied with a light shrug. “Besides, that was just my gut instinct. I didn’t want to come to you without solid evidence since people’s feelings shouldn’t be assumed.” 

Remus desperately wanted to argue but could feel the anger dying at the bottom of his throat as James looked at him sorrowfully yet unapologetically. His heart rate was slowing, he could feel it poundings getting steadier and further apart, but it still spluttered in nervousness as he said, “I just have so much going on in my head right now I want to explode.” 

As if James was expecting that—which he couldn’t have been, since Remus rarely spoke honestly about his feelings—he smiled warmly at Remus, outstretching the bag of candies to him. Remus grabbed it, looking inside to find all of his favorites: dark chocolate fudge, truffles in delicate wrappers, special chocolate bars that weren’t even on display and Remus knew from experience had to be inquired about to find and purchase. He glanced back up at James, whose grin had only grown. “I thought that talk might go poorly, so I took the liberty of getting you something from Honeydukes,” he explained. Remus kept looking up and down and up and down between James and the bag of sweets, getting ready to mention how James didn’t only get him something but all of his favorites, but James continued. “You know you can still talk to me, right? About all of those things going on in your head.” 

Remus nodded with disinterest as he sat down, the action quickly mirrored by a still purse-lipped, concerned James. His hands fiddled with the wrapped truffles, as if trying to decide which to eat first, though he knew he would not consume any. Not yet, at least, with a throat as dry and closed up as his. Still, chokes of words were able to leave his throat. “Sometimes I feel like telling Sirius about my feelings, but then I remember who he is and who I am.” 

“What do you mean?” James inquired softly. Remus could feel James’ eyes on him, warm and probably wide, but wouldn’t dare to look back. 

So Remus’ eyes focused on the gentle ripples of Black Lake as he said, “There’s just no way I can ever deserve him. No way I will ever be good enough. Friendship being ruined and awkwardness put aside.” 

When the truth was out, he finally turned to James, whose grin was twitching as if he was trying to hold it back. “You are literally one of the best people I’ve ever known,” James said. “And yeah, I guess Sirius has this allure”—he outstretched his hands and wiggled his fingertips to try and physically express the mentioned radiance— “and all, but Remus, you’re much more introspective and aware and you’ve got this incredible wit and whole kind of charm of your own.” 

Remus arched his brow. “You think I’m charming?” 

“Are you kidding?” James scoffed. “You had Binns wrapped around your finger in class the other day. Maybe Sirius is more flirtatiously charming, but you’re definitely still charming.” 

Remus didn’t mean to blush, but felt his cheeks heating up as he said, “Wow, an admission that someone has a crush on me and that someone thinks I’m charming on the same day.” 

“And will the closeness of these two events make you actually believe you are as amazing as everyone else thinks?” James asked, looking at Remus expectantly. 

Remus shrugged before pulling out a chocolate bar. “I don’t know. I just wish I could go up to him and be like,”—Remus held up the bar in front of his face with both hands, looking at it with intense gravity— “Sirius Black, I think about making out with you so much it pains my chest. Will you please be my boyfriend? But then I look at him and all of that confidence just disintegrates.” To emphasize his point, Remus let the bar to slip out of his loosened grip, landing silently on the plush grass. 

“I know what you mean,” James said. “I think of all of these great lines to tell Evans, like when falling asleep or bored in class, but when it actually comes to speaking to her, I’m a mess.” When Remus looked at James, his friend’s neck was bent towards the grass between his parted legs, chuckling while resting a hand against the back of his neck: a position Remus knew and lived in more than anyone else. And to see James in that state brought a shock up Remus’ spine.

“You actually get nervous?” he asked, trying to make it curious as opposed to mocking, but he wasn’t sure which it was received as while James nodded silently in response. “I guess I always thought it was you being you, I guess. All energetic. I never knew you get nervous talking to Lily.” 

“God yes. It’s terrifying. Regardless of how long I’ve known her, she just takes my breath away every time, you know?” 

“James?” Remus asked, hoping it would pull James’ eyes up towards him and it did, with a gentle turn of his face that seemed like he was a small animal scared out of a hiding spot, not the grand stag he usually acted as. Something warm made its way through Remus’ chest at seeing James so uncharacteristically unsure and he smiled to try and give some of the brightness back to his best friend. “James, I really think fake dating you has been the best part of our friendship. It’s nice to talk to you like this. To get to know you in a new way.” 

Remus didn’t miss the small smile and tinge of pink that grew on James’ face before he turned back to looking at the ground beneath him, where his hands rested against the grass. “Well that’s soft,” he muttered, grinning so brightly it was hard for Remus to believe he was attempting to hide it. In the passing moments of silence, Remus picked up the chocolate bar from the grass and began unwrapping it, setting the paper covering in the Honeydukes bag before ripping into the foil and tearing off a square for James. 

He held it out for a couple seconds too long after offering it to a James that was reluctant to turn around, still embarrassed. “Come on, take it. It’s my thank you for today and getting me chocolate.” 

When James finally turned, his expression was less shy and sweet and more teasing and playful. “Are you really going to let me eat your chocolate, Moony?” 

As Remus struggled to find words, James just laughed, making Remus feel even more stupid for still having his arm outstretched, blazing sun melting the chocolate into the palm of his hand. “I… I am able to share. And you deserve it.” 

“I’m good. Don’t worry about it.” 

So Remus proceeded to eat all of the chocolate James had bought him all by himself before the beginnings of a setting sun urged them back into the Common Room. Remus knew from the increasingly loud sounds of shoes against wooden flooring and chatter from students as he and James approached the Fat Lady that they would be some of the first to arrive back, so was not necessarily surprised when he and a laughing James opened the door to find Sirius and Lily already inside. But what slacked his jaw and narrowed his brows and sent a shockwave through his skin so strong he almost dropped the candy bag was seeing Sirius, already arrived, slumped over himself in pain with Lily’s arm wrapped around the top of his hunched back. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, approaching Sirius with careful and quick steps, not caring about the obvious concern seeping out of his voice. He sat down besides Sirius, who turned towards him so automatically it had to be born out of instinct. When he leaned into Remus’ chest, there was no spluttering heartbeat to be exposed; Remus was quick to forget about being in love with Sirius in these kinds of situations, quick to not have a physical reaction of Sirius being so close, because his eyes were swollen red and his voice was shaky and broken as he said what was on his mind.

“Ollie and I ended things.” It was a quiet whisper into Remus’ shirt and having his breath millimeters away from Remus’ skin should have sent it tingling but he was only fazed by the sadness of it, not the proximity of the breath.

Remus could hear James’ footsteps creak along the wooden floor as he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sirius scoffed harshly. “God no,” he seethed, and it was as demanding as it was disheartening. “I just want to stop feeling sad about… just, I need a distraction.”

The smirk on James’ face was audible as he said, “Well I know just the thing.” And as Sirius and Lily stood up with that ominous prompting, Remus realized just how much living together for five years put people on the same page as he was getting up, too, and following James up the dormitory staircase and putting a record on his player and blasting it on full volume and turning to watch James standing on the bed, singing with a hairbrush as a microphone.

“Lady and gentlemen,” he said as the opening instruments began their ascent into full volume, layers of beats adding in and in and in. “I’d like to welcome you into the Marauder dorm room and into the best night of your lives. I’m not typically one for Muggle music but this one is going to be a classic so”—he took a deep breath, closing his eyes dramatically, and Remus glanced at Sirius’ widening smile with relief as James began singing in a high-pitched voice perfectly in tune with the music—“Well you can tell by the way I use my walk I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk. Music loud and women warm I’ve been kicked around since I was born.” James hopped off the bed then, approaching Sirius and tossing away the hairbrush to grab his hands. Their dancing only lasted a few moments before James parted again, twirling around Remus with waving arm movements. But Remus kept his eyes on Sirius, who was now laughing while Lily attempted several dance moves, all of which looked awkward on her body. 

“Stop laughing!” she protested, but her own chuckles proved there was no anger. The song shifted, kept changing for however long they danced, before the softness of the instrumental song paired with their tired bodies gave way for something else. 

James broke off from where he stood next to Remus, looking at Lily squarely and softly. “May I please have this dance?” he asked, almost as if mocking himself, and if Remus hadn’t just been at Black Lake and seen his neck rounded and heard his nervous chuckling, he might not have picked up on how the hand not outstretched to Lily was quivering relentlessly. She laughed before agreeing, and James swept her off. It was only a few feet away but when it was Sirius he was next to, no matter how far away Remus truly was to the next closest person in the room, to him it felt like galaxies 

He outstretched his hand to Sirius. There were no words like James had said; lacked the bravery to speak, or truly, the bravery to attempt and have his words come out as mumbled, broken sentences. So he asked with his eyes instead, serious and pleading, making sure his warm smile counterbalanced the fact that he wanted this to mean something, to be real. Because when Sirius took Remus’ hand, suddenly James and Lily weren’t only galaxies away: they ceased to exist entirely. Because when Remus stepped in, making their bodies press into something that resembled a hug, Remus found himself wishing the way he held Sirius could be something obviously romantic, instead of a swaying version of a friendly embrace. Because when Sirius put his cheek against Remus’ chest, unsteady from their closeness, every inch of Remus’ skin felt alive, like it wasn’t part of him but its own separate being made out of electricity and tidal waves in the most gorgeously destructive way. Dancing with Sirius was an experience, a near-death one, perhaps, by the way Remus could barely breathe, and he realized that this is what he was missing with Steph, feeling so much good it was becoming difficult to exist.

Yet he found the strength to speak, as it sprouted from worry rather than adornment. “You’re going to be alright,” Remus said, voice steadier than expected.

Sirius shook his head, hair hitting Remus’ jumper, flowers almost all fallen off. “I’m never going to end up with the person I love.”

Remus’ breath caught in his throat. “There will be others. I promise.” There was so much left to say, so many words ready his mouth was left open after he finished talking and he had to close it consciously in order to not let anything spill out, drowning them in an ocean of transformative truths. 

“Not him,” Sirius seethed defiantly, and Remus wanted to cry because his heart ached to be that person Sirius craved.

“I know what you mean,” Remus replied. Sirius’ head peeked up slightly, looking over at a dancing Lily and James, reminding Remus they were not galaxies away but right here, in this messed up universe in which he was responsible for the wreckages. 

Sirius placed his head back into Remus chest before asking, “Do you ever consider moving on?”

“No.” It was so automatic, so fast, Remus didn’t know if Sirius had heard. So he repeated himself: “No. I love him far too much. I don’t even think I could if I tried.”

“I know,” Sirius said, softly, filled with sleep, and within minutes Remus found himself tucking Sirius in after charming the record player to a halt, wondering if Sirius understood everything so well, if Steph could tell the truth, if everyone was right that he was over exaggerating, maybe he could open up to Sirius. Maybe he could just say James was a lie, that every other crush or feeling towards anyone else was strictly fantastical. That he was hopelessly, stupidly, irretrievably in love with Sirius and had been for years. Will be forever. 

With his eyes closed and body curled under his bedsheets, Remus decided that Sunday was a lovely day for telling the truth before falling into the most restful sleep of his life.


	8. "Everything will be okay"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Sirius' POV

The sun beat against Sirius’ neck with unusual intensity for late May, but he hardly noticed the heat as Madam Hooch threw the Quaffle into the air, he and the crowd around him bursting into cheers as the last Quidditch game of the season began. The most likely way he’d realize the heat was if the golden paint he streaked under his eyelids melted off of his face from sweat. Or, if he went to wipe his perspiring face and saw a flaxen smudge on his hands. 

But the true way he realized the heat was Lily, who was sitting down and had charmed an old piece of parchment she had found in her bag to fan her sweating face. She kept shaking her shirt, too, creating a billowing noise that Sirius shouldn’t have been able to hear considering the shouts from Remus—even though he was on the other side of Lily—and the whistles of broomsticks in front of his face. 

But he did hear and see and notice, so asked, with a frown line in his forehead, “Are you doing alright, Lily?” 

“Just fine,” she replied. But the breath heavy in her words and the artificial smile being sent Sirius’ way convinced him otherwise.

So he didn’t stop pressing. “James would understand if you had to leave. Even though he’d die for Quidditch, he probably wouldn’t want you to.” Then, looking past Lily’s quivering shoulders, remembering Remus was there, Sirius quickly added, “James wouldn’t want any of us to die for Quidditch.” The way it brightened Remus’ smile made Sirius’ chest turn inside of itself. 

Lily’s voice reminded him to stop staring (or, at least stop staring overtly). “I know,” she said. It was rougher at the edges than normal. “But I’m fine. Okay?”

“We’ll take you back to the Common Room if you need it, so don’t hesitate to ask,” Remus chimed in. Sirius hadn’t realized Remus was following their conversation intently enough to join it.

Lily seemed unphased. “Thanks,” she smiled over to him. Remus was already grinning—he had been ever since that morning, looking stupidly happy because of how well his date with James went—so only had to look down at Lily momentarily in order to reciprocate the reply. It was only for the briefest of moments, but Sirius was jealous for every second of them, wishing that he could be at the receiving end of a smile that warm. That Remus would stare at Sirius with the leftovers of the glance he gave to the man he loved, just so Sirius could get a taste of it. Imagine for a moment it was for him, and him alone.

With a heavy heart Sirius turned his attention to the Quidditch field. Gryffindor was winning with a lead so large it was on the edge of ridiculousness. Yet, Sirius’ glance remained cold, jaw locked, eyes empty. They never truly focused on the scene in front of him, too distracted to put that much energy in following Bludgers and Quaffles and Snitches flying in every direction. But, of course, because it was who he wanted to see last, James’ wind-blown curls and round glasses seemed to be everywhere Sirius looked. It was like James was taunting him, even though he had no idea how Sirius truly felt.

Sirius considered the consequences of pulling James aside after his match, sweaty and panting and gloriously happy, and telling him the truth. It wouldn’t be the worst: James would have the trophy as a buffer to his sadness, anger, frustration, guilt. His obvious obligation to break up with Remus, which Sirius would deny the necessity of at first, trying to be selfless, but James would do anyways, because James never tried to be selfless— he just was. 

Even before the trophy was a certainty, Sirius’ mind began wandering, wondering if he should tell James. How he would. All the possible responses—awful with a crying James, wonderful with an understanding James, or conflicted and somewhere in between the precious two—he could get. A good portion of his current irritability wasn’t even based in Remus being in love with someone else; rather, the gold paint under his eyes covered the dark rings that had formed there from staying up all night and running through millions of scenarios. 

There wasn’t one that was painless enough. For him or for James. For Remus. Especially for Remus. Because Sirius would be breaking him up with the love of his life just to sit and stare at him from afar. Not only was that insanely cruel, but Sirius could pine over Remus regardless of how smitten Remus was for James; he was proving it to himself now.

His eyes were on Remus, gazing softly. Though it was painful to watch Remus shout “Yeah, James!” while wearing his shirt—no one confirmed it, but Remus didn’t own any Quidditch gear before and suddenly, that morning, he was in a shirt that was far too short for his torso—it was somehow worth it, still. Staring. Especially whenever Remus’ arms rose and lifted the shirt fabric— Sirius’ breath sputtered. And, the cop out if he got caught was obvious: Sirius would tilt his head, cock his eyebrows and ask Remus, “Isn’t that James’ shirt?” Because, apparently, he’d rather risk seeing Remus blush in conformation than not look at him at all. 

“Wow, I never really realized how fun Quidditch games are,” Remus said, snapping Sirius out of his daydreams. He didn’t worry about moving his focus away; Remus turned towards him to make it obvious he was striking up a conversation with Sirius, specifically, casually lopsided grin still beaming on his face. 

“Y-yeah,” Sirius responded, wanting to kick himself for how it came out all stuttered. Just because he wasn’t dating Ollie anymore didn’t mean he could give up the act; practically blushing in front of Remus since Sirius was single now did not make Remus any less in love with James. James any less likely to reciprocate. 

He had to be, too: Remus was so much more relaxed lately. James reciprocating was the only explanation. He stood taller and with his shoulders pulled back, ever so slightly; walked with his head up and chin jutted; smiled more and more brightly. It made Sirius’ breath hitch constantly. As if Remus wasn’t noticeable enough before.

As if I could ever keep my eyes off of him before.

Sirius blamed that for the blunder, which—bless him—Remus brushed over expressionlessly; his original effortlessly warm smile never wavered. Neither did his eye-contact, so resolute it had to be intentional. 

Remus continued, chuckling. “Well, I guess I never really paid attention before, did I?” Sirius laughed, too, because it was true and it was impossible to not laugh when Remus did, but then it got cut short at the realization that Remus probably was paying attention because of James. Was obviously paying attention because Sirius knew about his feelings for James, so Remus no longer had to sneak glances at carefully calculated moments and now could look in earnest. 

Suddenly, Sirius felt woozy. And it wasn’t from the heat or from catching what Lily had or even the dizzying brightness of Remus’ eyes, alight with some dangerously enticing newfound confidence. 

So Sirius just shrugged in response, unable to come up with a verbal reply. Remus could, though: “I feel like you told me years ago that you were considering going out for the Gryffindor team. Like right after we just met.” 

Sirius had to clear his throat before responding, “Yeah. But the hours were insane, so I decided not to. And the uniforms are ridiculous.” 

It wasn’t a chuckle that Remus responded with, but a full laugh, one that made his chest heave and his smile widen. Sirius looked down at Remus’ shoes—those ridiculously clunky Timberland things that only Remus could look good in—to hide the faint blush he felt on his cheeks. And he kept them there because of Remus’ next words: “I bet you could pull them off, though. Those uniforms.” 

After just enough time so it wouldn’t feel awkward, Sirius looked up at Remus, allowing the shock to pour through his wide eyes and furrowed brow. “Sure,” he scoffed, letting his eyes leave Remus’ face once again, his own turning towards the field. 

“I’m not kidding,” Remus said, playfully, almost like he was singing the words that left his throat. Sirius wanted to keep his focus still, wanted to prove to himself that he could keep his eyes off of Remus for the slightest of moments, just until he couldn’t feel the warmth of Remus’ on his face and then he’d look at Remus until just before Remus would turn his head towards Sirius again. But he was helpless. Pathetically in love. 

It took all of two seconds for Sirius’ face to turn back to Remus’, which was in the same position Sirius had left it in. However, Sirius’ had developed something between a hopeful glance and a frustrated frown. Remus’ face followed suit, reacting to seeing the visible confusion that struck Sirius. 

So he was opening his mouth, separating those unfairly plump lips, getting ready to probably ask Sirius if he was okay—even though Sirius learned at least five languages while living under the Black roof, he still didn’t know how to say “no” in enough languages to adequately express how much pain he was in—but then loud shouts from the crowd extinguished his words. 

The audience was erupting in cheers; Lily shot up out of her seat, clapping and yelling for James. It was so loud it was quiet, so loud all of the screaming drowned out itself into background noise. Sirius tore his eyes away from a beaming Lily to assess what had just happened, turned his head towards the Quidditch field to reveal James pumping his fist in the air, white wings of a Golden Snitch peeking out the side of his gloved hands. Sirius smiled while James flew past where they sat in the Gryffindor stands, but it left just as quickly as it came, when he saw James wink at Remus. 

He was landing when Remus’ voice was directed at Sirius once more. “I should go…” Remus began, more than a question than anything else, thumb jutting out towards where James was descending his broom on the field. 

“Yes, of course,” Sirius reassured breathlessly. “I’ll take care of Lily.” Remus responded with only a smile before rushing through the crowd to get to James. 

Too distracted by everything else, Sirius had yet to realize that Lily was sitting once more, fanning her face again. Sirius sat next to her, offering her a flask of pumpkin juice, which she shook her head at before letting it face towards the pitch again. Even without facing him, Sirius could tell her face was scrunched in pain. 

“I can take you back to the Common Room,” Sirius offered. 

Lily’s focus never shifted and her voice was fully annoyed. “I’m fine, Sirius.” 

The ragged cough that followed kept him unconvinced, but her tone scared Sirius away from begging for further reassurance. So, instead, he selfishly shifted the conversation, asking the question he had been dying to ask her ever since coming back from his failed date with Ollie, “Doesn’t it bother you? Seeing them together like this?” 

The question got Lily’s attention, her face turning towards Sirius just enough so she could barely make eye contact. “Why would it? They’re brothers. They’ve lived together for years.” 

“I’m James’ brother,” Sirius corrected, his voice now cold and bitter. “I fucking live in his house. His actual house. Not just his dorm.” 

“Then you out of everyone should trust him to not do anything with your crush, yes?” Now her head was fully turned, and Sirius could see that the ice in his expression was not met by more ice, but rather a warmth in her green eyes and soft smile, as if she was attempting to melt his worry away through reassurance alone. She spoke so softly it almost worked. 

“He doesn’t know,” Sirius grumbled. 

Her warm features contorted into confusion. “Why?” 

“At first, because Remus is my best friend and I know that would fuck everything up. And then I thought about telling James, since I thought I knew what he wanted, but now I don’t know. And I can’t tell you what I do know, because I don’t know what you do.” 

Slowly, mindfully, Lily nodded, before blowing out a breath. “I just think you should trust James. He would never do anything to hurt you. You know that. And maybe talk to him?” 

“But I don’t want to fuck things up if he’s happy.” Especially if it would make Remus happy, too, Sirius added on internally. 

But Lily only responded to the words spoken: “I don’t mean tell him about how you feel about Remus. Just figure out what’s going on in his head, if anything. Then you can decide how much information to give him.” 

Sirius huffed out a breath, out of evidence for his side of the fight (even if he had more, Lily was right—as always—making there be no reason to keep arguing). It didn’t help that the small smile she offered him wasn’t condescending in the slightest, but honest and full of hope, making Sirius want to believe it was that simple. That he could just talk to James and have his old life back, a life with a Remus that didn’t love James openly or a James that loved Lily or a chance. His heart swelled with her optimism. 

“Let’s go meet them,” she said. The stands were already mostly empty, and Lily stood up in them once more, falling forwards slightly. Sirius scrambled onto his feet in order to help, but she caught herself before he was able to. His lips were already parting open with the question of if she was alright, but before he could ask, Lily turned to him, the annoyed tone returning in her voice as she verified, “I’m fine.” Regardless, Sirius kept a hand ghosting the air right by her lower back as they began making their way into the grassy field. 

But when they finally made it to James and Remus, Sirius felt as though it should have been Lily’s hand on his back, and not the other way around, as he felt his body weaken at the sight of Remus’ hand loosely gripping one of James’ wrists as they smiled at one another. Somehow, Lily’s stature was strong. Suddenly, Sirius began to wonder if he wasn’t only wrong about knowing what James had wanted, but what Lily had, as well. 

James began speaking first: “Evans, Pads, there’s going to be a huge party in our Common Room tonight. You both in?” Then, directing his eyes to Lily, specifically, “You think you can make it through? Or was the game too much?” 

“I think I better skip this one,” Lily admitted, her face finally showing a glimpse of struggle. “It was so hot today. That, with my sickness—” 

“I’m so sorry,” James interrupted. “You shouldn’t have come.” 

Then Lily gave James that same smile that she had given Sirius only moments ago, the one that made him believe everything might turn out well, somehow, before responding, “It’s alright, Potter.” 

“Well let us at least take you up to our dorms and take care of you. We’ll just be getting ready for the party and we all can’t shower at the same time.”   
Lily laughed softly. It sounded raspy, like that volume was all she could muster in her condition—maybe it was—and made Sirius notice that even her voice was drier, as well, while she agreed. 

Oddly enough, James ushered Lily in to walk alongside him. After giving it what looked like a loving squeeze, Remus loosened his grip on James wrist, letting his fingers run through James’ on their way to freedom and falling back to walk with a now-breathless Sirius.. 

After a few minutes of Sirius trying to think about anything except the man who stood next to him, stood next to him taller and surer than ever before, he broke the near-silence (James was talking Lily’s ear off about Quidditch, his loud enthusiasm radiating to where Remus and Sirius were trailing behind). “It was my idea,” Remus said, the ambiguity of it forcing Sirius to look at Remus. Sirius wanted to punch himself in chest, right where he felt his heart break at the fact Remus wasn’t already looking down at him, and because of that very sensation. 

“What?” Sirius asked. He put all the inquisitiveness he could into the question, hoping it would be enough to make Remus want to look at him back, even though he knew he couldn’t physically handle Remus’ eye-contact and what it did to him. 

“The idea to take care of Lily while we all get ready. That was my idea. But James stole it, of course.” Remus had thought of it, of course. Because he was empathetic and James was in love with him, not Lily, so Remus had to remind James to think about her. 

Sirius smiled, but it was full of emptiness. “It was a good idea,” he reassured, unsure of what else to say, because apparently in the span of a few days, Remus and James were already able to complain about one another as if they had been dating for years.

With a smug expression, Remus turned to Sirius (it made his head spin, of course, being looked at by Remus) and said, confidently, “That’s exactly why he stole it.”

The heat of late spring sun had seeped into their dorm room during the course of the game, making the air heavy and stuffy once they had returned. Lily was set down on James’ bed immediately; doing so required each of the three boys to assist: Sirius pulled back the covers, James helped lift her into bed, and Remus got her tea and plain biscuits while Sirius laid the blankets atop her. Once—and after several attempts—they were successful, the three of them glanced at one another over Lily’s hauling chest and heavy breath, asking one another with just their eyes how to proceed next. Sirius wondered if his careful studying of Remus’ face when James looked at him was noticed. 

If James’ words of, “I’ll get ready first since I’m all sweaty and probably smell bad,” were anything to go by, then perhaps Sirius was safe. He smiled and nodded, letting his eyes trail through the room, following James, in order to ignore Remus without his intention being exposed. 

The slam shut of the bathroom door was the initiation of an awkward silence between Sirius and Remus. Although James was known for taking the shortest shower—Remus preferred them longer, which was the bane to Sirius’ existence, because it only gave him more time to think about the love of his life both naked and wet—it felt longer. Mostly due to the fact Sirius kept staring at the patch of wood that lay just in front of the bathroom door, afraid to look at Remus still. Afraid to see what Remus’ focus was on. 

But it became brutally clear—regardless of what it was before—what held Remus’ eyes as James walked through the bathroom door, with a towel hanging around his waist and nothing else on. He whistled casually while heading over to his wardrobe, unphased by the fact both of his both mates were staring at him in earnest. The only signal James gave that he actually noticed the attention was the comment of, “Calm down; you’ve both seen more,” an uncomfortable truth that made Sirius shudder and wonder if that used to be Remus’ life’s consolation prize: being able to see James unclothed without it seeming anything other than innocent. 

Remus cleared his throat, like James had made his breath hitch and Sirius couldn’t resist the urge to look at him. Even if it meant catching Remus’ hazel eyes tracing over every curve of James muscled shoulders (which it did). Though he anticipated such a scene, it didn’t make his heart feel squeezed or throat feel closed-up any less. So Sirius got up from his chair besides James’ bed, making the excuse of, “I’ll shower next. I’ve got to get this gold shit off of my face,” to give himself room to breathe.

The bathroom was little but a sanctuary. The entire time he was showering—it felt so long to be away from Remus and James for that much time, but only lasted a few minutes in reality—Sirius was nervous, head spinning with the possibilities that would occur when he walked through the door. Sirius didn’t think that his life could be any more carefully calculated than it was before (he paced his walking to end up next to Remus or came up with clever one-liners to try and amuse him), but now, with James added in, everything was a question. If I don’t wear a shirt, is that too obvious competition? But we always just wear towels around, so would it really be a big deal? Is it lame if I use a bathrobe? Can I just fling myself out of the bathroom window? 

So Sirius wondered, when he emerged the bathroom with similar coverage to James, if either of them noticed how thought-out the decision was. He felt oddly exposed while making his way to his dresser, especially since he had tied his hair up into a misshapen bun after drying it hastily, leaving the back of his neck open to two sets of eyes and the warm, stale air.

But he never actually checked to see if there was a reason to feel on display: Sirius kept his eyes on the floor, then on his dresser, with intense intention. He rifled through his clothes, finding a pair of black jeans and a white t-shirt that felt like fine enough of an outfit to wear to a party he didn’t want to attend. No amount of alcohol could fix what his life had turned into over the past few days. 

Sirius changed facing his dresser. When he turned around, James was sitting in the seat he had filled previously, watching over a sleeping Lily, breathing slowly and using his entire chest. Remus was nowhere to be found. 

“She’s not dying, mate,” Sirius said, his tone much harsher than the joking quality he meant to make it possess.

Therefore, when James frowned, Sirius felt heavy with guilt. “She’s sick because of me,” he said. It was quieter than any sentence Sirius ever heard James speak before. 

“Maybe this is a sign she finally considers you her friend.” This time, Sirius was able to acquire the joking tone he lacked previously, but it didn't matter: James turned to where he stood, with a look in his eyes as if reprimanding him sadly. As if this was a funeral and Sirius had just made some dastardly wisecrack in the middle of the eulogy. 

“Sorry,” Sirius quickly apologized. “I didn’t mean—” 

“I know,” James interrupted, raising one of his hands up, waving Sirius’ away with both his body and his words. His attention turned back to Lily once more, and Sirius wondered, if James looked at Lily that lovingly just as a friend, how must he look at Remus? 

But he didn’t have to wonder much longer because then there was Remus, presence given away by a loud bang of the the bathroom door even though he had probably tried to close it carefully behind himself, holding the end of the towel that wrapped around his waist in a tight fist. Though his focus was down on it (it was common knowledge that Remus couldn’t tuck towels to stay on his hips by themselves), James’, Sirius noticed, was above, on patches of scarred skin and outlines of usually-hidden muscles. The same places Sirius glanced at in the moon lit darkness of sleepless nights. Places he never thought about other people looking at.

Remus must have known he was being watched: a peek of pink was dusted over his neck. However, he didn’t comment like James; rather, he just got dressed quietly, so much so it was almost uncomfortable in its deliberateness. Luckily, Sirius turned his back to his friends while beginning to get dressed himself, making the rustles of fabric and slides of zippers cover the silence that was just as unnerving as it was unusual. That, coupled with the light snoring from Lily, barely made the quiet able to exist within. 

But that didn’t make the loud shouts and blaring music of the party any more tolerable. Sirius had a headache just thinking about it, so emerging into the crowd was like having his body set on fire and knowing it was happening the entire time. Surprisingly, it was the moment of silence that was the worst. When he and Remus became visible from the stairwell and the crowd stopped, expecting James to be right behind them, and was just as confused as to why James decided to lag in their dorm for a few moments.

So, when James finally appeared, everyone rushed to him. So much so that Remus and Sirius, who had sought out alcohol immediately, couldn’t reach him even though the stash of Firewhiskey was only a few feet from the staircase. It didn’t help that, within seconds, James was being lifted atop the shoulders of Gryffindors while chants of “Potter! Potter! Potter!” were sung by everyone not hoisting him up like a king. Everyone but Sirius, who had painted on a smile what seemed like hours ago, and Remus, who was grinning at James so lovingly and proudly Sirius could feel it without needing to look for verification. 

Sirius wasn’t sure how long it took for James to finally reach them, but Sirius of course patted his back when he arrived in an act of friendly congratulations (if the look on his face was any indication, Sirius guessed Remus wanted to do much more than awkwardly caress James’ arm in an act of more-than-friendly congratulations). As the night progressed, Remus kept doing that; kept almost touching James in a way that, Sirius knew, was obviously intimate, then redirecting his fingers to steady James’ glass of Firewhiskey. It was as if he kept almost forgetting Sirius was there. 

James, four Firewhiskeys in and counting, either did entirely forget or just didn’t give a damn. His hands were all over Remus, his body falling over Remus’ slightly-taller frame constantly. He’d dive headfirst into Remus’ torso, forcing Remus to loop his arm behind the side James’ body to steady his glass, spewing nonsensical reassurances like, “whoa, whoa there, James. Maybe we should try not head-butting me while drinking, yeah?” Then, James would nod and be sat up with the assistance of Remus, only to do the same thing minutes later. 

If Sirius wasn’t so desperately in love with Remus, it could have been quite funny to watch. Unfortunately, he was, so instead of making him laugh, their interaction made Sirius’ heart feel like it was being Splinched. Yet his head kept falling in their direction; it was as if they were a car crash of a couple (or whatever they had labeled themselves) and Sirius eyes couldn’t help themselves. 

The only thing that was capable of redirecting Sirius was the gentle voice from the other side of him, which continually said, “Hey, Sirius, turn around,” with unending patience. So Sirius lazily rolled his head to the other side of the couch, where some Gryffindor girl named Trinity was sitting so close to him, she was almost on his lap. He had attempted, multiple times, to get her to move over—even if she was on the other side of the couch, it would have been too close—just slightly, but she was obviously having difficulty taking a hint. But Sirius wasn’t surprised: if she couldn't tell, even amongst his repetitive stares filled with sadness and hunger, that Sirius was lusting over Remus, then how could he expect Trinity realize he wanted more space without requesting for it formally? 

“That’s the fifth time you’ve done that,” Trinity continued. Sirius scoffed; Merlin, it was like, the eighteenth, you idiot. “Is everything okay?” 

Her manicured hand went for Sirius’ knee, probably hoping to rub it affectionately, but he moved it before she could. “I’m fine,” he huffed. “What’s your deal, anyways? Why have I never really seen you around before?” 

Trinity was twirling her hair through her fingertips while she answered. “Well, I am a year below you, which kind of affects things. But, mostly, you and James are pretty intimidating.” 

“Intimidating?” Sirius repeated, raising his eyebrows, trying not to point out the fact his hair was still wet from his shower and the bun was just hiding that fact expertly. 

She nodded between sips of her drink (she got Sirius the same thing, some punch concoction, which he took one whiff of and decided not to consume). “You guys are popular. And older than me. And,”—she reached one arm out so quickly Sirius didn’t have time to move away from it, her fingers untwisting the chain that hung around his neck— “you are all insanely attractive.” Her eyes flickered up to him, hand still flush against his pounding chest. “Do you know how hard it is to talk to you guys? You’re practically royalty.”

Now, Sirius’ eyes were stuck on her fingers, laying atop his t-shirt clad chest too casually to be innocent. He gulped down. “You’re not allowed to touch royalty, you know,” he quipped back, tone much more confident than his body’s simultaneous quivers of uncertainty, his shortness of breath. 

Trinity leaned into his ear, palm still glued to his shirt, and whispered, “What if I want to touch royalty, though? What if I want to touch you everywhere?” 

In an embarrassingly fast motion—Sirius was beyond the point about caring about others’ opinions, though—Sirius peeled himself from under Trinity’s grip and stood up. He was still panting as he rearranged his shirt so it lay flat on his torso. In the seconds which this all occurred, Sirius felt like he had made some mad stir, so looked around curiously afterwards to realize that almost no one had noticed (or not the one person he wished would have noticed, anyways. Aside from Trinity, whose flirtatious glance was replaced with clenched brows and a slightly agape mouth, when Sirius turned around the room, the only other soul to notice his movements was Lily. 

“Lily?” Sirius questioned, his features now matching Trinity’s in confusion. “What are you doing here?” 

She shrugged, part of the fuzzy blanket hanging from her shoulders threatening to slide off of it. “Just going to my dorm for the night,” she clarified, smiling smally and believably despite her sickness (Lily was somehow always bright; the only exception was when shutting James down completely). “Have fun,” she added, while beginning to turn away. And it was probably intended to be said with her typical enthusiasm, and probably was, at first. But, not only was the loudness of the party intense enough to filter out her intention, but whatever joy her words might have held faded into solemness as her head turned slightly, revealing to her the scene Sirius had almost forgotten to actively forget about: Remus and James, bodies intertwined and giggling, smiling like they never knew how to before tonight. Like they never had a reason to before being with one another. 

Sirius watched, transfixed, as the same lips that swore earlier that day that Lily was unbothered by James’ and Remus’ sudden and fast-developing closeness, that they were just brothers, fall into a deep frown. Her eyes were dark and glistening, but not in their usual shimmer; no, no this was more somber, duller, a shine of teardrops developing. Lily left in a flash and suddenly, everything clicked.

This was bigger than Sirius realized. Bigger than he could of feared in the sleepless nights that proccedeed this one, filled with unconsumed alcohol and the leftover stench of Quidditch and random girls clawing at his chest. Filled with unrequited love, yes, but more importantly, requited love between two people strong enough to even make Lily Evans lose hope in her love story. 

Sirius stood up so quickly, the motion almost knocked him back down. “I need to get out of here,” he stated without looking at the person he was speaking to; rather, Sirius’ eyes were focused on the dimly-lit stairway. 

The only reason his head whipped back to her was the fast response of, “Can I come?” 

“Yeah.” He turned around once more to begin leaving the Common Room. “Whatever.” 

So, Sirius left, girl in a low-cut shirt following close behind him. And it shouldn’t have been revolutionary—it wasn’t to anyone who thought Sirius’ reputation was an accurate representation of his personality—but to leave a party with a girl who kept trying to stroke his arm all the way up the staircase, when that party contained a drunk and flirting James with a sober and flirting Remus meant Sirius was giving up; closing his dorm door behind him and Trinity meant closing the door on Remus, too. Meant he truly believed—it’s not like he didn’t believe before; James and Remus weren’t faking anything—but now believed with every aching bone and drop of blood and thwarting heartbeat that James and Remus loved one another. 

Amongst the newfound quiet that surrounded Sirius and Trinity, the slam of the door behind Sirius was harsh. But nothing was as aggressive as Trinity shoving an unaware Sirius against the freshly-closed door, holding him by his hair and crashing their mouths together unceremoniously. 

At the risk of jamming the doorknob into his lower back, Sirius sidestepped quickly, sliding between Trinity’s body and the door and visibly catching his breath once free from her grasp. But, of course, she didn’t take the hint, so continued to approach Sirius, whose back was now dangerously close to hitting another wall. So, he held his arms out with flexed palms, forcing Trinity to stop when she got close enough. 

His breathing was still slightly ragged, but his statement firm. “I don’t want this, Trinity,” he said. 

But she was still smirking somehow. “Then why’d you let me come with you?”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, the truth right at the tip of his tongue, but nothing falling out of that throat, so filled with words yet so silent. He struggled and kept struggling to find an explanation, and the more he did, the sharper Trinity’s smirk became. The darker her eyes turned. 

A messy jumble of words turned into the worst excuse ever: “I was just being nice,” Sirius explained.

Trinity stepped in closer, making Sirius’ elbows buckle against the weight of her shoulders. “Wrong.” She leaned her head in lips so close to Sirius he had to jump back to avoid them. Now, less than three feet of wooden panelling separated him from the wall. His fingers were trembling against the collar of her shirt. He pushed back against it. 

“I just don’t want to, okay?” Sirius huffed, almost smiling as he gained one step further from the wall. 

In defiance, Trinity sank her heels deep into the ground, weighing herself down. “Bullshit,” she declared. “You’re Sirius fucking Black. Everyone here knows how you operate.” Then, with an added, evil smile, “Are you afraid I’m too much for you? That I’ll come out of here unsatisfied and tell every soul at Hogwarts you aren’t the legendary fuck we all think you are?” 

“I… I…” Sirius let go of Trinity’s shoulders, running his hands through his hair and tugging at the roots from both sides. “I’m a bloody fucking virgin, alright? And I don’t give one shit who knows or not. I don’t even understand why people label me as some sex God! I’ve kissed, felt around, but I’ve never fucked.” 

Trinity’s eyes were as wide as Sirius wished the space between him and the wall was. “That’s not true,” she whispered. 

Sirius was laughing now, manically. “Of course it is! Why would I lie about being a virgin!” 

“For the same reasons people lie about being experienced,” Trinity quipped, stepping in close once more, her stride strong and unshakeable. “Come on, Black. Why are you lying? Why don’t you want me to have sex with you?” 

“You really want to know?” he asked, jaw locked tightly, the question a challenge more than anything else.

“Of course.” 

His hands gripped his head once more. “I’m in bloody love with someone else. There. Happy?” 

“Does she love you?” Trinity asked, stepping in. She kept stepping in closer, and Sirius was beginning to realize that maybe, she hadn’t been not taking hints the entire night, but rather ignoring all of the ones Sirius had obviously dropped. 

He walked backwards. The wall hit Sirius’ back softly; he was expecting it. 

“He doesn’t.” 

Trinity’s steps slowed, as if she was walking through honey as opposed to the stale and hot and blood-sucking air that surrounding them. Her head was leaning to the side as she asked, “You’re gay?” 

“Pansexual, actually.” 

Now, her head was shaking, and she approached him faster. As if afraid the wall would give in and let him fall into the next room, allowing Sirius to escape. 

“Have you ever been with a man?” she asked upon arrival. 

Sirius sighed loudly, exasperatedly. “I literally just went out with Ollie yesterday.” 

“So it’s him.” Trinity’s face was solid through, as if she could even begin understanding what a mess Sirius’ life was. 

“No.” 

“So,” Trinity grinned, wide and evil, “you couldn’t even last for one date, then tell me you’re gay—” 

“Pan—” 

“Gay, pan, whatever….” Trinity’s voice trailed off, her hands waving in front of her to emphasize her disinterest in the specifics, regardless of how important they were (but she’d never see it, so of course she doesn’t care). “The important thing here is that you obviously think you are attracted to men, but aren’t. So you obviously invited me up here to try and realign yourself because, obviously, if you can’t stand one date with a guy, you aren’t gay.” 

“Pan,” Sirius seethed from between his teeth. His jaw was so clenched he was surprised he hadn’t split his bottom teeth from biting down with his top ones. “And what does my compatibility with Ollie have to do with my attraction towards guys? Do you find all guys attractive? Does that make you any less straight?” 

Trinity’s lip pouted outwards. “Now look who’s making assumptions. How do you know I’m straight?” 

“Only someone aggressively heterosexual would use gay instead of pan because they’re too lazy to acknowledge the difference.”   
With one more languid step, Trinity had reached Sirius once more, and was breathing all of his air. “Only someone aggressively heterosexual would go out on a date with a guy, find out it wasn’t what he was looking for, then drag a girl up to his room and pretend to not want her because he’s too embarrassed to admit he was wrong. How are you supposed to be gay if you’ve never even done it with a guy? How do you even know?” 

“Because I fucking dream about holding hands with Remus, kissing him, going to bed by his side. Because I can’t stand seeing him with James, all drunk and giggly. I can’t stand it so much I had to leave the goddamn room. Because I love him and it’s been years and it hasn’t stopped.” 

Sirius was out of breath and Trinity looked so pale from shock it was as though all of hers got sucked out of her lungs at the same time. “It’s Remus?” 

“Yes,” Sirius painted. “I’m in love with Remus.”

Trinity stood, feet planted, laughing hysterically. “Remus? Remus Lupin?” Sirius nodded. “You’re telling me you’d rather suck the dick of some scraggly, poor-clothed, smart-ass tree man instead of have sex with me?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Sirius said, jaw still unbelievably tight. The only thing that had changed within him was a twinge of sadness that shot through his heart; he hated the fact some homophobic nobody could make him feel such pain. That she could have that power. 

“No,” she continued. “I want you to tell me. Because Remus Lupin is pathetic. I’ve never understood why you and James, literally the hottest two people to ever walk the planet, hang out with him. He’s tasteless. Borning. An absolute snoozefest. A know it all. I’d rather talk to any wall than have a conversation with him.” 

Sirius was panting again. For some reason, he was also close to tears. “Don’t fucking talk about him like that. He is the best person I have ever met.” 

“Then why aren’t you dating already, hm?” Trinity was still dangerously close to him, annoyingly, agonizingly close. “Or is this just another grand ploy of yours? Confusing your friendship with love when you know you’re straight. You don’t need to lower your standards that far just to have a relationship, you know. There are plenty of straight women who would love to date you. Who would rather date you than Remus, too.” 

“Yes?” 

The voice was deeper than Trinity’s, but wasn't spoken by Sirius’ closing throat, so he looked to the side, where he had just noticed a stream of light shining through. And there, in the doorway, hallway light shining an outline around his frame was Remus. Remus, still holding the doorknob in his hand, looking somehow extremely calm and put-together, as if he knew what was going on and had been there the whole time, listening. 

How long had he been here? 

Trinity straightened up. She eyed Remus up and down, not in the way she had flirtatiously glanced at Sirius before coming over to him at the party, but as if she was sizing him up. Seeing if she could break him down, too. 

But Remus was solid; cold, even, and unusually so, when asking, “Why do I feel like you weren’t invited here, Trinity?” 

But Trinity matched it as he stepped through the door. “Because you’re jealous of Sirius.” 

Remus chuckled. “Am I?” he asked, smiling darkly, walking over to the two of them casually. “I guess I should be, if everyone agrees with all of the things you said about me.” 

Trinity’s smile emulated Remus’. Soft and sweet but filled with venom. “It was about time someone let you know.” 

And Remus bunched up his face, as if preparing it for a wide smile, one with teeth and all, but then dropped his features into an expressionless glance. “You need to leave,” Remus began, eyes deep and dark, “I don’t know what you were saying about Sirius, but as long as you keep talking shit about me, you’ll have to find a place to do it other than my bedroom.” 

“Well it’s Sirius’ bedroom, too. And he wants me here.” Trinity’s voice was higher now, like she was whining—her delivery probably constituted as such—and her hands flew to her hips in defiance. 

“Does he?” Remus asked, arching his brows. 

“Well, he hasn’t asked me to leave.” 

Remus looked over at Sirius, Sirius who was now thankful he had the wall against his back to keep him standing upright, though his feet felt like they were sliding out from underneath him. The warmth was back in his eyes, just momentarily, as Remus asked, “Do you want Trinity to leave?” 

All Sirius could manage was a nod. 

Though that was enough for Remus to turn back to Trinity and say, far too passively, “You can close the door behind you,” it wasn’t enough for Trinity to do so.

“I need him to say it,” she clarified, almost puffing out her chest. As if she was proud to bring him pain (at this point, she probably was). 

“Why?” Remus asked. “You saw him shake his head. Now get the fuck out of here.” 

Trinity latched onto Remus’ arm with the same intensity that she had shoved Sirius against the door with. “Because he brought me up here and won’t admit why, even though I know the answer. So if he can’t say that, the least he can do is tell me to leave.” Then, she turned her attention back to Sirius before continuing, “Unless, maybe he won’t say it because he wants me to stay.” 

“No!” Sirius wailed, hating the breathlessness of his voice. It caught Remus’ attention, too, and now both sets of eyes were on his, one hungry and the other strained. 

Remus turned back to Trinity in a quick motion that faded into a blur behind the wetness of Sirius’ eyes. “He wants you to go!” Remus shouted. It echoed against the walls, a loud and repetitive boom, loud enough to shake furniture, Sirius was sure. But not loud enough to shake Trinity. 

“No. Not until he says something.” 

“What are you trying to prove?” Remus half-screamed, half-sighed. “You need to leave him the fuck alone.” 

“Not until—” 

“Trinity.” A breath. A pause. “Leave.” 

Sirius surprised himself with his ability to speak, but not as much as he surprised Trinity with what he spoke. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hanging open, jaw slacked, and Sirius wished he could say something filled with potent jabs and lacking breathlessness, but he felt entirely exhausted. 

Luckily, his words were, as promised, enough. “Fine,” Trinity spat, letting her arms fall down to her sides dramatically. She got to the open door quickly, taking large strides, before stopping them altogether and halting to a stop. “By the way,” she continued, before turning her head just slightly, just enough so that Remus and Sirius could see her face profile, “Sirius is in love with you, Remus.” 

The next sound Sirius heard was the door slamming shut. The next was his body falling against the hardwood floor, back having slid down it, resulting in him sitting against the wall with his knees tucked into his chest and his face in his knees. 

He wouldn’t look up. 

How could he? How could he ever look up again, look at Remus, be near Remus, sleep only a few feet away from him now that he knew? Sirius wasn’t the only thing that had fallen: so had his life, the consistency of it, his friendships that he held so dearly, all smashed on the floor in a heap of unfixable brokenness. 

The tears started flowing. His chest was heaving and his lungs were burning and the tears were flowing and they wouldn’t stop ever. 

This was the end. It had to be. 

From some now random place in the room, Remus approached him. Even the sobs that left Sirius’ throats weren’t loud enough to muffle those sturdy steps. He was so relentlessly grounded, Remus. So beautifully resilient. Like some ancient ruin; unbreakable. 

But Sirius wasn’t, so he was on the floor, sobbing. But Remus was, so he kneeled down, facing his friend—if Sirius could even call himself friends with Remus anymore, he wasn’t quite sure—and watched him for a moment. Sirius could feel the touch before it landed on his skin; Remus radiated warmth, so whenever he was near, it was like a constant buzz hitting Sirius regardless of how far away that tawny skin actually was. 

Remus landed his hand on Sirius shoulder. It was almost identical in location to where Sirius had touched Trinity, keeping her away, but it felt different. Like Remus was stabilizing Sirius, giving him some of that indestructibility. Letting it leak through his long fingertips down into Sirius’ quaking bones.   
“Hey,” he whispered. “Hey, look at me.” With disgust yet no reluctance, Sirius lifted his face from his knees, red eyes meeting hazel ones. All the warmth had returned but his lips were tight across his face, his forehead streaked with frown lines. “Are you okay?” 

Sirius let his head fall while it nodded slightly. Long, black strands of bangs that had fallen from his bun now stuck to his wet cheeks. 

Remus’ other hand touched Sirius’ other shoulder, and it was as if he was trying to hug Sirius; he couldn’t though, not with Sirius crouched forwards the way he was. But it was enough, just his fingertips. The heels of his hands. His voice. Strong. Calming. Soft. 

“You’re going to be okay, Sirius. Everything will be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to update! I hope the insane word count is enough of an apology to all of you beautiful readers :)


	9. “I Just Needed You To Know”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Remus' POV

The spring sunlight radiated gorgeously from Black Lake. A light breeze was rippling through the air, sending small waves across the waterfront and refreshing Remus without making the pages of his book fly up chaotically, making him lose his place. But, Remus realized maybe it didn’t matter how strong the wind was: his eyes kept glossing over the black text, not really reading, just going through the motions. And, even if the winds did mess up his spot, Remus had read Madame Bovary at least fourteen times; at this point, he could find the general placement of any paragraph through memory alone.

What Remus couldn’t do, however, despite the week that had passed and the energy he had put into it, was forget Sirius in the way Sirius had forgotten him. Nothing changed in the way Sirius laughed at James’ jokes or made Lily roll her eyes; Sirius didn’t even change seats in classes though he sat next to Remus in quite a few. But he just closed in on himself in the least Sirius-like manner, acting as if Remus was a stranger instead of, according to Trinity’s account, the man he was in love with.

And how was Remus supposed to ignore Sirius when he knew that? Or, at least, when reciprocation was finally a possibility instead of just a pre-sleep state Remus used to imagine when clutching his pillow as tightly as he craved to embrace Sirius?

It was yet another thing Remus couldn’t do: cease recalling that Saturday night. How fear swallowed Sirius whole, turned his eyes full thunderstorm and his body earthquake. He shook from the marrow out until the lines of his body were no longer defined; he was outlined by a vibrational haze. The smallest of sobs that sounded like gasps for air, and even though Remus’ ears still rang with Trinity’s words like she was in the room repeating them, that noise didn’t matter in comparison to the ones Sirius let out.

So Remus held him by the shoulders even though he craved to push against Sirius with his lips. Told him everything would be fine when all Remus wanted to say was that he loved Sirius, too, loved him so much from the moment they met and would until the moment they’d die and during all the empty, unreciprocated space between. That, sure, he’d find a way to cope with the rejection previously expected but even that all-consuming pain wouldn’t be enough to ever make him to move on from Sirius, make him stop loving him. 

But, instead, he whispered words of comfort to Sirius. He held Sirius by the shoulders through that thin, white t-shirt and even now, Remus couldn’t forget how Sirius’ skin felt against his fingertips: yet another thing he couldn’t do.

And he couldn’t figure out if Sirius was in love with him.

Remus had indulged himself in the fantasy once or twice before, at most. He was younger then and the feeling was new; he felt as though some sort of unnameable force had been placed in his chest, one that kept drawing him inevitably towards Sirius with the same dangerous irresistibility of an open fire. At first Remus thought it was pure fascination: he had never met someone full of so much life before, and how could someone constructed from sheer sunlight not draw others in? And he was so young then, love to him was the way his father gently pecked a kiss on his mother’s lips before leaving for work, or how his grandmother always brought Remus’ favorite kind of chocolate when she visited, or how his parents didn’t treat him like a monster after he was bitten. So, as days and months and two years passed, Remus didn’t quite know what to do with the information that his body felt warm and bubbly whenever Sirius was nearby. 

It wasn’t until after James admitted his crush on Lily in second year that Remus knew what he was up against. Though Sirius was snoring softly next to him—the three of them would sometimes sleep on the same bed when they were small enough—and James was talking in uncharacteristic hushness, Remus’ entire world felt loud as admissions of stuttered words and hard-hitting heartbeats seemed more like a reflection of Remus’ feelings than some distant recounting of James’. Remus found himself requiring a throat-clearing cough before responding to James’ questions and doubts. In the deepest and most honest part of his soul, Remus had many of the same ones. 

Remus knew there was absolutely nothing spectacular about himself (sure, the werewolf thing was unique, but it wasn’t exactly alluring) so he learned to lose hope almost as quickly as he realized there was something to be hopeful for.

There was only one time Remus remembered letting himself go. It was that same night, after James had fallen asleep with Lily’s name on his then parted lips, saying everything he had to and Remus was envious of that freedom. Having the bravery and luck to be able to attain it.

But that anger and frustration was suddenly distracted as Sirius began stirring rapidly next to him, his legs kicking into the air as he mumbled urgent incoherencies to the ceiling. Remus automatically took it upon himself to grab Sirius’ left shoulder—the right one was on the wrong side to him—and begin shaking him awake. “Sirius? Sirius, it’s okay,” he whispered so quietly it barely constituted as such. 

Sirius’ eyes popped open, wide in terror at first but softening as soon as they made contact with Remus’. They were so close, Remus wondered if Sirius could hear how loudly his heart was beating. But it wouldn’t have mattered; comforting of Sirius wasn’t about that. 

Remus expected Sirius to explain himself, recount as much from that obviously painful nightmare as he could manage, but, instead, Sirius soundlessly dove his head into Remus’ chest and proceeded to wrap his hands around Remus’ torso. The shock shoved the preemptive question of, “Are you alright?” right back down Remus’ throat. And he might have asked it again, but their proximity allowed Remus to feel just how rapidly Sirius was still shaking. So he just let Sirius be, let Sirius press his warm cheek into a flaring heartbeat and let himself imagine a life where this wasn’t a friendly favor but a necessity, being so close it felt like their two bodies were one.

Now, after not having spoken to Sirius for days, that memory felt so far away from him; it was as if he imagined it but it never happened (which was what Remus thought the morning he woke up entangled in Sirius’ limbs). It was yet another thing he couldn’t do: believe he had a chance with Sirius.

Even as Trinity said the words, Remus felt as though they weren’t as much a punch to Sirius as they were to him. After the onslaught of her exposing Remus’ every insecurity with the sharpest of intent, Remus assumed that was more of a taunt at him, not Sirius. As if she had to say it because Remus was too dumb to realize or not brave enough to do anything, anyways, so why not scream the truth? That had to be why Sirius had been ignoring him, Remus decided; he had figured out Trinity wasn’t trying to ruin the friendship through a lie but by exposing a secret Remus had kept hidden for so long, she knew it was something Remus wanted to never say.

Though he officially went to Black Lake to “read,” if he was being truthful with himself, Remus left the dorm so he didn’t have to watch the door open, see Sirius almost walk through the door, then leave with a harsh slam echoing behind him; and, all he had done since arriving was come to the conclusion such actions taken by Sirius were due to the fact he figured out Remus had been dreaming of snogging him for an impossibly long time.

“Maybe this is why I haven’t even finished a page,” Remus muttered to himself.

“Too busy analyzing the placement of a comma?” a voice asked from behind him, one he knew so well it was impossible for Remus to not jump off of the bench and turn around to affirm the fantasy was true. That Sirius was there, talking to him again. That he still wanted to. 

He wore a faded denim jacket and an unsure smile. Even though the obnoxiously lazy perfection of his long hair and wittiness of his remark made his identity obvious, Remus was still blinking heavily, too shocked to truly believe Sirius had came up to him first.

Probably to turn me down, Remus thought to himself. His heart jerked and he almost lost his balance. 

“You alright, Moony?” Sirius asked without a trace of mockery. But Remus was too busy steadying himself by putting his hand on the backrest of the bench to fully absorb the tenderness of Sirius’ tone.

“Yeah… I, uh…”–Remus peered up at Sirius, who was still smiling with forced gentleness– “I’m just fine.” He smoothed down his shirt with the heels of his hands before daring to look at Sirius again. “And you?”

Suddenly, Sirius’ focus shifted; his eyes were everywhere. “I’m, uh, alright. I guess.”

“That’s good,” Remus nodded. He allowed his focus to drift, as well, forgetting how overwhelming it could be to stare at Sirius, allowing himself that break.

It only lasted until Sirius spoke again. “I was wondering if it would be alright if I joined you,” he more asked than offered, uncharacteristic uncertainty apparent not only in his voice but the way he looked at Remus, like it was taking all of the energy in his body to do so.

“Yeah… sure.”

A small smile melted onto Sirius’ face, one that Remus’ heart ached to make that into something more. He resisted the urge by turning his back to Sirius and returning to his previous position: sitting on the bench, staring out into the clear waters of Black Lake, watching winds ripple water and rustle tree branches.

“I think this lake is named after some distant relative of mine,” Sirius mentioned. If they were in any other situation, Remus would have mockingly pointed out the fact that, almost every time they went to Black Lake, Sirius said that. But Remus was too afraid of making Sirius run again, so shut his mouth and merely nodded in response.

But that didn’t seem to work; Sirius chuckled, almost nervously, and said, “I guess I’ve mentioned that before.” Remus turned his focus from the water to Sirius; he was leaning his elbows atop his parted knees, head tilted down towards the grass at his feet. 

“It’s still cool,” Remus assured him. “There’s nothing at Hogwarts named after anyone remotely related to me. If there was, I’d probably mention it a ton, too.”

Sirius snapped his head up to look at Remus in the eyes. His were dark and cold. “I’m not trying to brag.” 

“I know—that’s not what I meant.”

Automatically, Sirius’ gaze softened before it turned away once more. “Sorry. I’ve been kind of, you know…”—Sirius brought his hands in front of his tipped-down head, shaking them vigorously to assist in brainstorming the word—“… wound up lately. For the past few days, really.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t a spectacular response, but Remus was using too much of his energy to not take what Sirius said too personally, to not let it overtake him into an obvious blush.

Sirius’ reply was also simple: a small nod, still looking at the ground. For a minute, the only sound between them was the gentle breeze and Remus had to restrain himself from watching it blow Sirius’ hair back.

Then, so quietly it was almost indistinguishable from the whistles of wind, Sirius spoke. “I’m sorry about the other night. All of the things Trinity said about you—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Remus cut off. “I’ve heard much worse about myself, trust me.” Then, he laughed, partially because it was a sardonic truth, but also to hopefully distract his heart from pounding wildly, concerned that “all the things Trinity said” included her declaration of Sirius’ love for Remus. What that would mean.

Sirius turned to Remus wearing a pained expression: eyebrows furrowed, lips a straight line before they parted to respond. “Don’t say that.” His solemness countered Remus’ forced joviality perfectly.

“Come on, I’m joking.” 

Remus might have swatted Sirius on the arm playfully then, if Sirius didn’t look as upset as he did and Remus wasn’t perfectly certain he’d combust at the slightest of physical contact between the two of them.

“Well, it’s not a good joke,” Sirius pouted while crossing his arms over his chest, turning away from Remus. “It makes fun of you.”

“Pads, you literally tease me more than anyone else.”

Sirius’ pout was so strong, Remus could hear it as he argued, “That’s different.”

Now, more interested in the light argument that almost made it feel as though they had their friendship back, Remus shifted his position on the bench so his body was facing Sirius’ more fully. Whereas Sirius’ body was square to the lake which outstretched in front of them, with a torso slightly hunched over and elbows resting on his thighs, Remus’ body was angled to face Sirisu’ with his left arm draping over the backrest and right leg crossed over his left to allow himself to hold the position comfortably. After adjusting his position, letting his head fall down in questioning, Remus asked with all of the playfulness he could muster, “and why is it different, Sirius?”

“Because I love you.”

Remus’ head was spinning suddenly and he could barely process the fact Sirius’ face was now turned to him, eyes holding the most helpless look. If it weren't for the fact Remus was absolutely sure he was dreaming, he might have leaned in and kissed Sirius right then. Instead, he shook his head rapidly, trying to wake himself up, too shocked to realize he was mumbling Sirius’ name all the while.

“That’s what I came here to say,” Sirius continued, somehow still coherent despite being visibly terrified (it was his shaking hands that gave him away). “Trinity wasn’t lying. That’s why I didn’t sleep with her—that’s why I haven’t been sleeping with anyone, honestly.”

“Sirius—”

“I just… I just thought you deserved to hear it from me, too. Not just Trinity.”

Remus’ throat was far too dry to say Sirius’ name in more than a whisper in the first attempt, so he had to clear his throat before repeating, and more clearly this time, “Sirius.”

But it didn’t pull his focus enough: yes, Sirius had stopped speaking, but instead placed his head in his hands, exhaling heavily through the space between them. “I knew it wouldn’t end well,” he spoke more to the ground than to Remus. “But I was hoping that it would at least be me that got to say… got to admit my feelings for you. Even if it’s useless.” He raised his face to chuckle then, the sound full of darkness. “And look! It is! I’m telling you this, and you’re not even free—” 

Suddenly, the tone shifted. Sirius ceased speaking altogether, intead jumping from his seat with a jold that made him seem like he was struck with lightning. 

“Fuck!” he yelled before his feet even hit the ground. He turned his face to Remus, expression adorned with equal panic to his words. “I forgot about you and James. When I walked over, I didn’t even consider… I’m not trying to get in the middle of things, I swear. I’m happy for you two—”

“SIRIUS!”

Remus’ voice boomed across the too-large space between them, rattling Sirius and making Remus regret his volume immediately. In the aftermath, Remus saw something occur that he had never witnessed before: Sirius began caving into himself, as if attempting to find a safehouse in his spine. As he responded, his voice was unusually hushed and timid.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius whimpered. “I just needed you to know. I’m so sorry.”

And before his voice had even faded from the air, Sirius had began fleeing the scene, black boots digging into the rich and damp soil surrounding Black Lake. Automatically, Remus sprang to his feet, shouting for Sirius to stop—which Sirius thoroughly ignored—while running after him. As Remus watched Sirius sprint up the hill, he noticed Sirius’ arms pumping behind himself so sped up, outstretched his hand, and caught Sirius’ wrist in a tight fist. The sudden pull caused Sirius to stumble down the hill slightly; luckily, his torso turned towards Remus, allowing him to clutch Sirius’ other wrist and stabilize him so they were left hand-in-hand, bodies close enough to hear one another panting from the run and the proximity. Closely enough Remus could see the shadows from leaves dancing on Sirius’ cheeks. 

His eyes followed the trails of them down to Sirius’ quivering lips, considering them momentarily, before flicking his gaze back up into Sirius’ eyes.

“Sirius,” Remus breathed, letting his eyes close and his head dip down. He breathed deeply, squeezing Sirius’ palm and wrist during the inhale and loosening his grip on the exhale. When he glanced back up, Sirius’ mouth was twitching, as if he was about to say something, but Remus interrupted by pressing his lips on Sirius’.

With a gasp Sirius opened his mouth and Remus felt his body sink into itself, felt his lungs cease in contracting and his skin crackle as though fire was lit atop it. His entire world was Sirius’ mouth, how it parted so easily and tasted like black coffee and made the most breathtaking whimper when Remus’ tongue first entered. His entire world was Sirius’ mouth and nothing else mattered.

After one more squeeze of his palm against Sirius’, Remus began sliding his left hand up Sirius’ body to cup his cheek. But Sirius must have been looking for an escape from the embrace; the moment Remus released his grasp, Sirius took advantage of the freedom and successfully yanked his left arm from the grasp of Remus’ right hand.

“What the hell, Remus?” he screamed, rubbing his wrist where Remus’ fingers had laid as if they left some sort of burn mark. His eyes were wide and so full of rage, rendering Remus unable to do anything execpt freeze in place. “What, you’re just gonna kiss me because I’m sad and alone while James is mad for you? I’m telling you, I’m not trying to break you up! So don’t kiss me just to make me feel less pathetic.”

Remus attempted to reach out to Sirius, but every effort was sidestepped, leaving Remus a rambling mess. “Sirius, no, that’s not—”

“Don’t,”—Sirius’ voice was quieter there as he leaned in to Remus, pointing squarely at his chest with every word—“Patronize. Me.” And, then, with similarly terrifying composure, Sirius turned to leave once more. When Remus reached out, Sirius already anticipated the attempt, so dodged without even having to look back. So he kept doing so, and desperately, missing every time or having the few successful attempts at contact being flung off by Sirius smoothly. 

“Goddamnit,”—hand swinging out— “Sirius”—fingers brushing against Sirius’ elbow— “Why won’t you,”—clutching it— “turn around,”—elbow being jerked away— “I need to talk to you so please turn around—”

“WHAT?”

Sirius spat the question out while finally facing Remus. His entire face was hard edges and lines from anger; the only softness Remus spotted had to be in his eyes, as, even though they were blaring with rage, tears were forming at the base of them which threatened to fall at any moment. Slowly, Remus felt his own face drop, the realization that overt sadness was probably the thing keeping Sirius from turning around destroying him; Sirius was either too proud or too embarrassed to admit how upset he was at the supposed rejection. That anguish he felt as a response of Sirius’ pain, the fluster he was overcome with as a response, the worry that at any moment Sirius would turn to leave once more if he wasn’t given a reason to stay, all combined to make Remus incapable of saying anything except the most absolute of truths.

Still staring deeply at that broken expression he prayed he could fix, Remus let the words fall from his mouth that he had spent the last seven years swallowing up, never allowing to break free: “I’m in love with you, Sirius.”

Sirius backed away as if he was afraid of the words, yet his own face was still full of a fury terrifyingly strong. “You’re lying,” he snapped back. “You and James—”

“Were pretending.” Remus’ voice was louder than he meant it to be, and the moment he noticed Sirius’ wince, the moment he looked with intensified care at Sirius’ face and realized those tears had finally been released onto his cheeks, Remus sucked in a breath to calm his voice, taking a languid step towards Sirius. “I know it’s totally fucked, but I didn’t,”—Remus took a breath here and switched his focus; looking at a crying Sirius for so long was beginning to demolish him completely—“I didn’t want to give you the chance to jump at any conclusions—any correct ones—because I was so afraid you wouldn’t feel the same and everything would be ruined.” 

“And, Merlin,” Remus continued, exhaling deeply and running his hands through his hair, “this is so goddamned fucked…so fucked I didn’t even tell James because he’d be mad at me for it and so fucked I barely admitted it to myself, but I wanted to make you jealous, too. I was hoping seeing us together would make you jealous and I hate myself for it and I’m so, so sorry, Sirius.”

When Remus peered back up—his gaze had drifted downwards towards the grass without even realizing it—Sirius’ eyes, red and puffy yet still such a beautifully rich brown, were waiting for Remus’ to rise once again. In the moment that followed, they simply considered one another: Sirius, face painted with tear streaks and the ghost of confusion and Remus, lungs panting and heart pounding from his thirty-second-old confession. Remus’ lips quivered with the beginnings of another apology, explanation, admittance of guilt, but, out of nowhere and before he could speak once more, Sirius fell into him, wrapping his arms around Remus and pressing his chin in the space between Remus’ shoulder and neck.

Remus was too shocked to do anything except stand there stiffly and absorb the impact.

Even his hands, those scarred palms that knew nothing except the desire to touch Sirius for the past six years, to hold him in exactly the same way Sirius was inviting him to with exactly the same intention, hung in the air with stupid motionlessness, until Sirius jaw moved against Remus’ chest in a gentle whisper.

“I forgive you.” It was so soft in tone yet firm in intention that Remus’ knees automatically weakened underneath himself. Maybe it was to steady himself, maybe it was because he craved touch desperately—regardless of the reason but due to it, Remus finally let his arms press into Sirius’ back and the embrace was reciprocated.

He caught a whiff of Sirius’ hair. It smelled like coconut and vanilla and everything he wanted to run his fingers through.

And Remus was almost going to before Sirius began speaking once more, interrupting the movement. Sirius’ tone was unusually soft again and Remus could almost feel his warm breath on his skin, sinking through layers of sweater and t-shirt. “I had all the same fears,” Sirius admitted. “I never thought I’d hear you say that you love me. Or anything even close. I thought my feelings would be the end of everything.” 

“Sirius,” Remus repeated, a subtle whisper dripping with tenderness.

He didn’t intend for Sirius to look up in response but he did, pulling himself out of Remus’ embrace slightly as a result. Sirius’ eyes met Remus’ and they seemed as though they were waiting for something more—most likely for Remus to finish his sentence—but Remus hadn’t even meant to begin speaking in the first place. He wasn’t sure anything he could say could even get close to the rawness of Sirius’ confession or could express, in any sort of accuracy, how much he loved Sirius. How, somehow, that affection had multiplied to impossible amounts from those four sentences alone.

Remus’ heart was rapidly booming inside of his chest; Sirius was so close and was his if he wanted and he did want him. Carefully, Remus lifted one of his arms off of Sirius’ back and moved it slightly, allowing his thumb to swipe alongside Sirius’ cheek where the trial of a teardrop still remained, wet and glistening. Afterwards, he let his palm rest alongside Sirius’ jawline, stroking the skin there slowly and softly. When Sirius leaned into the contact, Remus almost melted entirely.

And he almost resisted the urge to do so, but Remus quickly remembered he no longer had to pretend to be impartial, so let his body shiver and his eyes wander around the marvel that was Sirius’ face. Sharp cheekbones, brown eyes, long and dark lashes, plump lips. That’s where Remus’ focus kept averting to: Sirius’ lips, in the desire to kiss them. A dream suddenly able to be realized.

All of this felt like a dream, if Remus was being honest with himself.

Maybe to test his luck but definitely because he wanted to, and had wanted to since the moment they met and would until the moment he died, he knew, Remus asked, “Is it alright if I kiss you?”

Sirius blushed as he nodded and Remus almost stopped breathing at the cuteness of it. 

But, Remus leaned down to Sirius, his right hand staying on Sirius’ face and his other trailing up Sirius’ spine to cup the nape of his neck, and pressed their lips together. Once again, Sirius opened his mouth rather quickly, but Remus went slowly this time. This kiss wasn’t something he was taking: it was something he was giving, an action to be perceived as an apology and a note of thanks and confession of love all at once.

So Remus savored the taste of Sirius’ lips, took his time guiding his tongue between Sirius’ kips, guiding Sirius’ head to tilt with a gentle coax, never a pull or grip. Their lips moved against one another’s with unpracticed perfection so, when he allowed the kiss to fully deepen, Remus let out a sigh down Sirius’ throat.

And he held on, too: Remus slid his fingers up into Sirius’ hair and skimmed his thumb along Sirius’ jawline once more and then cupped it because he was all Remus ever wanted and Remus was going to do whatever else he needed for however long was necessary to keep Sirius here, with him, just like he always dreamed of.


	10. "Are you terrified of this?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius finds himself entangled in a kiss that brings just as much joy to him as it does complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Sirius' POV

Sirius’ family hadn’t ever been religious. His childhood memories never consisted of Bible entries or prayers at Synagogue, Kwanzaa celebrations or being told the stories of the brightly and intricately illustrated Hindu gods.

But with Remus’ lips against his, the aftertaste of Remus’ morning coffee now resting deep down Sirius’ throat, Sirius found himself praying. 

_Take me right here, right now,_ Sirius thought to whatever immortal entity he hoped would stop and listen. _I have all I’ve ever wanted. Kill me while I’m happy so it can never be taken from me. So he can never be taken from me._

To no avail, tilting his head, letting Remus guide it, Sirius waited. At first, his stomach dropped when he could still feel Remus’ fingertips, so full of life, cupping his face. But just as quickly, Sirius became grateful; if Remus had cared for Sirius even a fraction as much as Sirius loved Remus, which was alluded to, Remus would be sure to feel intolerable grief if Sirius were to die. 

So Sirius squeezed Remus between his arms. Remus’ sweater scratched against his knuckles but it was a small price to pay for getting to feel Remus sigh down his throat. So was living. And living for years thinking he’d never get here, with Remus’ tongue in his mouth and his heart in his hands. That reciprocation was just a dream he always woke up from far too soon in the night, only to be forced to fall back asleep watching the very subject of intangible desires snore from across the room, moonlight shadowing his face with accidental beauty and making the scene resemble some romantic painting. 

Remembering that torment, the sleeplessness and sadness, the nights alone loving Remus from so close yet so far away, Sirius dug his fingertips further into Remus’ skin. He was finally with Remus and there was no way he would ever let him go. How foolish of him to think death was appropriate: the world was just doused in a fresh layer of paint, the air cleaned, Sirius’ faith in love restored, and death was what he sought? 

_I was wrong. Don't kill me. Let me be with him for as long as I’ve got._

Even though he was just introduced to them, Sirius knew he could never get sick of Remus’ lips, their feeling, their taste, their shape. Still, air felt almost equally intoxicating as it filled Sirius’ lungs once Remus pulled away. It had just been cleansed; it made sense. 

From wherever they had been—Sirius’ hair? His face?—Remus’ hands trailed down Sirius’ body until they reached his hands, holding them, leaving his skin gasping in their wake. Sirius couldn’t be quite sure of the path Remus’ hands took, as his eyes were busy admiring Remus’ face, how his cheeks were more pink than tan, how his lips were more purple than pink. And all as beautiful as always. 

Remus’ hands felt like clouds cupping his. It was as if Remus was afraid to touch Sirius too forcefully, perhaps in over-eagerness or lack of experience or a combination of the two. Maybe he was making up for the fact he had just kissed Sirius as if air was sucked from Earth and the only way to keep living was to steal all of the oxygen from Sirius’ lungs, to take it for himself. But Sirius hadn’t minded at all; in fact, his head could do little else but ponder over the flawlessness of the kiss. However, from Remus’ unsteady glances and reddened cheeks, Sirius guessed Remus believed he had overshot. He looked at Sirius as if expecting that he was going to break apart from being overwhelmed, one piece at a time. 

But Sirius had never felt so solid. His skin was tougher, his breathing easier. Even his feet felt more firmly planted in the ground, despite the spring showers that had softened the soil on the hillside. 

The problem: Sirius didn’t know how to express this, or if Remus would even understand what he meant by it. So in a moment of worry, Sirius blurted out, “You’re a great kisser.” 

Of course, that wasn’t what he had me ant at all, but at least Remus seemed to understand. “Thanks,” he laughed. “I’m glad my first review is so positive.” 

Sirius’ mind whirled. “Your first review? You mean you’ve never… was I your first kiss?” 

The smile leftover from Remus’ laughter brightened, although he said at the same time, and quite seriously, “Pads, do you really think I wouldn’t have told you and Prongs the second after I had kissed someone?” 

“I guess. But that means Steph…” Remus was shaking his head before Sirius could even finish the thought; the end of the sentence died in Sirius’ throat. He could feel how impossibly wide his jaw hung at the affirmation. It wasn’t as if Remus hadn’t established how seriously he took the physical aspects of relationships—one of the reasons Sirius believed his chances with Remus were especially fucked after seeing him and James holding hands—or Sirius felt any emotion other than agreement at Remus’ reservation, despite what rumors might have said about his overuse of the bedroom. 

The shock, therefore, came from something else. The fact that anyone held the self-control to not kiss Remus the second they got the chance. 

Therefore, he was shaking his head in disbelief and holding his eyes open wide when he asked, “why not?” 

A grin cracked across Remus’ face. “You.” 

His cheeks were flushed and his glance uncertain and he kept stuttering through words. “I was just.. uh, you see, I figured if I held on for long enough for us to get together, granted we would, then you’d be my first kiss.” 

Suddenly, the ground under Sirius’ feet felt significantly more unstable. 

With knees buckled, he tumbled into Remus’ chest, cheek pressed against the fabric of his sweater. Luckily, the accidental motion hid scorching redness that resulted from Remus’ laughter of, “That’s not even the only first I have to give you.” 

“Oh my god,” Sirius breathed. His lungs felt empty and his heartbeat was set on pause. Meanwhile, Remus was entirely constructed of chuckles; with his face against his sweater, Sirius could feel Remus’ chest bubbling in the wake of his full-bodied laughter. 

“What? Are only you allowed to be cheeky in this relationship?”

Sirius peered upwards from the hiding place that was Remus’ chest (Sirius could not quite remember how long he’d wanted to use it as one), meeting Remus’ bright eyes with his widened ones. 

Once again, he couldn’t quite find the words. Or maybe, Remus just made him so flustered suddenly letters seemed covered in soap, constantly slipping out of his grip. It had to be Remus to blame and the way he kept looking down at Sirius like he had never done before, eyes glittering with a quality Sirius dared to call adoration. His words were inarticulate still: “So, this is like… we’re in an, um, in a relationship now?” 

Remus’ face started to fall; Sirius was sure he only noticed it because he had spent years studying Remus’ features, so he was able to clarify quickly: “I mean, that’s what I want. If that’s what you want.” 

Like the sun at dawn his smile returned. It was fuller and brighter than ever. “I’d love to be your boyfriend,” he said with such eager enthusiasm it had to be true.

Sirius felt out of breath. His body felt as though it was retracting in on itself. The only word he could manage was the shaky exhale of, “Cool.” 

Remus smirked at the response, raising his eyebrow inquisitively. “Hm. Seems like someone’s struggling with the prospect of dating a book-obsessed werewolf.” 

“No! I swear! It’s just—”

Though the eye-rolling had to have came first, what Sirius noticed initially was the dry tone in Remus’ voice. “Pads,” he said, stretching the one-syllable nickname out as best he could, “I’m joking.” 

“Oh.” Sirius blinked a couple of times, as if clearing his vision would allow him to see through sarcasm. “But you seem so… casual.” 

Remus gave the kind of smile he reserved for when people gave the exact comments he was expecting. He then spoke with the ambiguity he reserved for replying to those anticipated remarks. “Put your cheek back on my chest,” he demanded softly.

Sirius did. He wondered if Remus caught the glimpse of his confusion, visible through the intense scrunching of his brows. For what was he supposed to find there that wasn’t present the first time? His sweater felt just as scratchy (why Remus wore the thing, despite how unarguably good he looked in it, Sirius would never understand), his body just as warm. Sirius paused. He pressed his face in deeper. And, just when he was about to give up, heard the unmistakable sound of a heartbeat, one that was as rapid and choppy yet drunkenly slurred. It sounded like the way Sirius had been talking the entire time.

Sirius pressed himself off of Remus’ chest by placing both hands on it, lifting his body away gingerly. “But you’re speaking so clearly,” he accused. 

Remus chuckled. “I’ve loved you for years, Sirius. I’ve gotten used to having to deal with this,”—he gestured at his chest— “yet acting as if it doesn't exist.” 

The lack of heat on his cheeks surprised Sirius. It was as if in these past minutes, he had forgotten the art of indifference, an art he had spent almost as long perfecting. Remus reminded him of it, though, so now his face was stone and his words had gone from shy to cocky as he argued, “Well I did it too, you know. And I bet for longer.” 

Remus arched his brows. “Really? Since the summer before fifth year?” 

“Shit, really?” Remus nodded, expression expectant. “Well, you’re right there I guess. But I love you more.” 

“Hm. I doubt that.” Despite the accusation in his voice, Remus’ eyes were sparkling with joy. Not once could Sirius remember a time when Remus looked at someone else that way. 

So Sirius had to bite back laughter while saying, “I broke up with Ollie for you.” 

“I dated James for you.” 

“Hey,” the tone in Sirius’ voice was sharper now; it drained the smile off of Remus’ face. “You can do a lot worse than James Potter.” 

Remus’ eyes glanced over the entirety of Sirius’ body in a millisecond. “Obviously,” he scoffed dryly. But the twinge of a playful smile gave him away. 

“Hey!” Sirius’ shoved his hands deeper into Remus’ chest, shoving him backwards. Remus’ smile bloomed fully at the response. He didn’t say he was kidding, but Sirius knew he was, so didn’t hide his own grin from spreading apart his lips. 

Before they fell from the air, Remus grabbed Sirius’ hands with his own. He pulled Sirius towards him, just enough so they could kiss if they wanted (Sirius always wanted to kiss Remus), and suggested with a smirk, “Call it a truce, then?” 

After laughing so hard, Remus’ voice seemed throatier than usual. Sirius flushed at the deepness of the sound. 

“I guess.” He feigned a grumble, forced a too-obvious rolling of the eyes, but Sirius knew the grin spread across his cheeks—and even worse, they still held a blush—made it impossible to seem truly annoyed.

For a moment, neither spoke. The breeze carried off Sirius’ voice long ago and all that was left was the rustling of nearby tree’s leaves and the soft and steady sound of breathing. Sirius watched as Remus brought their hands up higher between their bodies, causing four arms to bend at the elbows and allowing him to step closer into Sirius’ space. Even though they had slept in the same bed before, slow danced just a few weeks ago, the newfound knowledge of reciprocation made the proximity intensely intimate. And if the large sigh Remus exhaled was any indication, he felt it, too.

With a jolt his eyes found Sirius’. “Do you want to stay here?” His lips twisted oddly around the words, almost forming into a frown, and Sirius realized what Remus was actually asking: if he was ready to leave this fantasy of just the two of them and no complications to deal with, no ability of cruel judgment to drive a wedge between this perfect thing. 

Sirius a few days ago would have scoffed. Would have rolled his eyes. Would have said “fuck them,” lead Remus to the most crowded area on the school’s grounds, and kissed Remus with tongue and all until their lips were blue and their legs shaking. But after encountering Trinity, Sirius had a sinking feeling there was a reason to be afraid. His throat began to choke up. All this time loving someone in the dark, all this self-resentment, all of this forceful admittance and fear and courage and finally he had everything he ever dreamed of, yet he still couldn’t really have it. For as out in the open they were, his emotions would remain sheltered. 

Remus squeezed his hands along Sirius’ palm. “I get it,” he whispered. Sirius dipped his head down, hiding the tears that were forming, even though he was with the person he felt safest with in every form of the word. Remus began slipping his fingers away from Sirius’, but Sirius clenched his hands tightly.

“No,” he choked out. “They can say what they want. I don’t care. I can’t not be with you.” 

As quickly as Sirius adjusted his face to be able to look up at Remus, Remus yanked his hands from Sirius’ grip just to replace them on his jawbones. Holding Sirius there, Remus leaned down, pressing their mouths together once more. 

Even though the first kiss had been so incredible it had left a buzzing feeling inside of Sirius all the while, from the moment Remus’ lips touched his Sirius noticed a newfound extremity. If their first kiss was a lightning strike, this one was a full summer storm. Remus kissed Sirius like it was all he knew. Sirius felt as though he was at the receiving end of a constant stream of spells, just absorbing magic over and over again until he was made of it entirely.

With as much decisiveness as Remus began the kiss, he ended it, retracting everything from Sirius’ body except his hands. Still out of breath but not giving himself a minute to spare he panted out, “I love you so much, Sirius.” 

Needing it more, Sirius gave himself a few moments to regain his breath. In that time he slid his fingers up to the hand on the left of his face. “Hold my hand while we walk in,” he said. And, moments later, a warm palm had been moved off of Sirius’ jawline and onto his own, while feet trudged through the grass drying off its morning dew. 

Disaster struck almost immediately. Almost, because the first people to meet them by the fountain were James and Lily, both trying to look forcibly casual, neither one knowing what the other knew. So, when Sirius and Remus entered into their view, Sirius felt Remus lift their joined hands up and shake them, signaling what had happened by the lake. Sirius’ face was scorching hot. Both wore grins so wide Sirius’ worry from early suddenly felt so far away. 

But, before Remus and Sirius could meet them, a laugh rang out across the courtyard, startling the four of them and passerby’s alike. High and airy and flirtatiously contradictory, the sound could only belong to Trinity’s throat. 

She looked different in the daytime, in an outfit not meant to get her laid and makeup not shocking enough to be seen for miles. Her smirk was the same though, whether painted in red lipstick or not. 

A flock of nearby birds shot up into the sky at the sound of her laughter. “I can’t believe it!” she panted, holding her doubled-over stomach (Sirius suspected that the breathlessness was just for show). “You actually are dating him now? Is this some kind of sick joke? If you didn’t want to fuck me, you could have just said so. You didn’t have to go to the lengths of this kind of self-implosion. This fake gay thing and fake dating Remus.” 

Sirius lunged forwards. His right hand began to search his pockets for his wand, eyes narrowed on Trinity’s smug look. If it wasn’t for his hand being intertwined with Remus’, he would have punched her right in the nose. Instead, a few steps out, he tumbled backwards, Remus’ grip pulling Sirius into his sweater-clad chest. 

“It’s not worth it,” he said. Though the delivery was calm, there was something about the way Remus’ jaw was clenched that suggested more than just indifference. “She’s not worth it.” 

“You can get in a huge mess from an out of place hex,” James piped in, reminding Sirius he was there. 

Then, another voice, from the side. “What about a punch?” Right when Sirius registered it was Lily who had spoken it, he watched as her well-formed fist struck Trinity square in the jaw. Trinity fell back, screaming, clutching the wounded spot with both hands. 

“What the fuck, Evans?” she screamed. Trinity assessed her hands; luckily for Lily, there was no blood. But it would still bruise, and, as Sirius looked around, he realized there were plenty of onlookers with jaws slacked with shock, onlookers who knew what Lily Evans looked like and might rat her out for the kind of rewards Trinity was sure to offer.

Despite the crowd, James wrapped his fingers around Lily’s arm, gently pulling her to face him, walked right up to her and kissed her deeply, his free hand brushing her hair back.

Sirius peered up at Remus. He blushed when he was met with Remus’ gaze, meaning he was already waiting for Sirius to look at him. Despite the crowd, he hadn’t moved from Remus’ arms. Hadn’t even considered it as an option.

“Sorry, I guess your man is taken,” Sirius teased. 

Even with the loud hollering of the crowd and the even louder scoff from Trinity at their kiss, it Sirius heard Remus’ voice with absolute clarity. “It’s a pity. Guess I’ll have to go try and find someone else.” 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’re a catch.” 

Remus’ eyes glittered in a way that challenged the fountain’s water in beauty. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.” 

“Maybe I am.” 

Remus broke the repartee, which made Sirius gush with momentary pride. “Wait,” he whispered, and Sirius understood to turn back to James and Lily without needing more direction.

Unlike himself, James looked unsure, teetering on the edge of terrified. He mumbled something out to Lily; if Sirius could read lips well, it was along the lines of, “I hope that was okay.” Sirius wasn’t sure if he meant kissing without asking, the kiss itself, or both. But Lily then smiled shyly, semi-swollen lip being bit down as she nodded, and a rush of relief swept through James in the form of the widest grin he had ever been seen wearing. 

“Congratulations on your little love fest,” Trinity sneered from the ground. “But you seem to forget I still have an injury at your hand, Evans, which is enough to get you suspended, which would make you lose Head Girl. And all for some gay—”

She spoke proudly and sharply. But, the moment Lily fled James’ grip and kneeled in front of her, pulling her up by the shirt, Trinity seemed to cave back into her body. Trinity looked like she wanted to be absorbed into the brown earth beneath her jeans. Anything to get away from Lily. 

With a voice filled with a quiet anger Sirius had never heard it possess before, Lily spoke. “I’d rather lose Head Girl a thousand times than let your mouth speak any vile words towards my friends.” Without warning, Lily unclenched her fingers, leaving Trinity to fall back in an unceremonious plop. “And if you think I won’t be there ready to punch you every time you say something cruel, you have another thing coming.” 

Just as her voice began fading out, just when Sirius was going to give a triumphant holler at the passion of her speech, Trinity’s fingers coiled around Lily’s ankle, whipping her leg from under her and causing Lily to fall on her left side. Trinity used the time it took Lily to realize what had happened to her advantage, crawling over her weakened body and pushing Lily’s shoulder down so she was flat beneath her. Lily’s face scrunched as Trinity went to cock her own fist. 

Without thinking, Sirius sprang out of Remus’ arms, and both ran towards the girls. Only a few steps in, Trinity’s body stiffened, and Trinity fell to her side just the same way that Lily had done seconds previously.

Sirius snapped his head to the side. James stood with his feet in a wide stance, left arm behind him, and right holding up his just-used wand. It was so silent, if he dropped his wand, everyone watching would have been able to hear it settle onto the ground. 

He began to approach Lily, the most ruthless look cast upon his face, but stopped in his tracks when a voice began to speak. Once again, Sirius’ focus was diverted, this time to a figure in layers of deep blue robes with arms crossed elegantly underneath. 

“Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore began, so calmly it was terrifying. Despite their years of pranking and joking, Sirius saw James swallow deeply; never had the two of them (or three of them, if Remus was cooperating) so ardently and directly used magic against someone else.

“Please, sir, let me explain— ” 

Dumbledore raised one of his hands in the air, silencing James without needing a charm at all. “I would like you to help me see that Ms. Evans and Ms. Suh are properly attended to by the talents of Madame Pomfrey. Only after they are tended to and offered rest will I allow an explanation to occur.” James looked down at his feet, obviously embarrassed. “Now, shall we?” 

James looked equally as petrified as Trinity as he lifted her off of the ground, carrying her to the Hospital Wing while Lily trailed behind, Dumbledore’s ringed fingers sturdy around her shoulders to assist her walking. 

So the dorm was silent when Sirius and Remus returned and continued to be so; as a preemptive punishment to his actions, James was ordered to stay and help Madame Pomfrey care for Trinity over the three days and nights she assumed Trinity would continued to be petrified for. “But Lily was the one who punched her first,” Sirius whined childishly as James began to leave breakfast one morning five minutes after he had arrived. 

“What Dumbledore doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he said, then winked, somehow still cheery enough to find the humor in all of this. Or maybe it was the fact his robe pockets were filled with enough Cornish pasties to feed the entire Ministry.

Despite himself, Sirius did find aspects of James’ absence enjoyable. Without warning, he would crawl into Remus’ bed or Remus would climb into his during the night, as if they were still keeping their feelings a secret or had to, and they’d kiss one another until the door cracked open at the ungodly hour of dawn James returned during. Then, they would feign sleep until James fell into it in earnest, continuing where they left off the moment one of them heard James’ first snore.

“I’m getting worried that I’m going to start getting bothered at the sound of Prongs’ snores because of this,” Sirius said on the last night. Remus’ fit of laughter that followed was so loud it woke James up. In response, he threw a stray pillow at their intertwined figures, vastly missing in dimness of night present right before sunrise begins. 

On the last morning of James’ duty, Sirius woke up to the sound of birds chirping. It was Saturday and mid-morning light was already flooding through their open windows; Sirius’ sharpening vision watched as the dust modes hazily flew around in the patch of sunshine on their bedroom floor. Lifting his gaze slightly, Sirius found his bed. For a moment his eyes played a trick on him and he saw himself there, as if he were looking at a mirror, saw himself there messily strewn between layers of blankets, dark eyes watching every motion of Remus’ breath as if his own depended on it. The vision felt like it should be from a lifetime ago, complete with the frayed edges of a black-and-white photograph passed down through generations, but he could still feel the ache. It was so painfully obvious and obviously painful. Nothing on his face could hide the hopeless desire he held and, through the layers of time, Sirius choked back a sob. 

Sirius blinked himself back into the present. His heart felt as empty as his bed was now. 

He lay as stiff as a board until the gentle stroke of Remus’ hand had him turning towards Remus’ sleepy grin. It faded as soon as Sirius’ anxiety made itself apparent. Instead of the usual good morning, Remus instead asked, “What’s wrong?” 

“Are you terrified of this?” Sirius questioned, voice shaking with every syllable. 

Every edge of Remus’ face firmed up. “Why would you think that?” 

“All we ever do is snog on our beds when James isn’t around. You asked me that day when we were at Black Lake, you asked if I was ready for this. But I never asked you.” 

Remus exhaled. “I love you, Sirius,” he stated simply. Sirius’ head started throbbing; is this what a break-up feels like when you really love the person, but not in the same way? He pathetically clutched onto Remus’ shirt. 

“Remus—”

“I’ve loved you for so long. Before I came out. Before I even knew I was gay. And I knew before I told you, that I was gay. I didn’t want you to know I was gay because, well, partially, I didn’t want you to guess my feelings. But also, there was something else. I didn’t even admit to myself, or anyone else, until now.” His head dipped down at this, accentuating the difficulty of the confession. “Sirius, it’s just… I didn’t want you to know I was an option but still not like me, anyways. If I was straight, then there’d be no choice. But you knowing you could date me and not wanting to…”

His voice trailed off the same way breath wisps away from someone as they die.

“Remus.” This one was less of a plead, more of a whisper. Remus lifted his eyes back to Sirius; tears were welling inside of them and Sirius lifted his free hand to Remus’ face. When Remus closed his eyes and leaned into the embrace, Sirius’ heart swelled.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I’ve been hiding. I loved you for so long that the pain of doing it from afar was tolerable. But now… now that I know what it’s like to actually have you, the thought of losing you—” 

“I know,” Sirius breathed. “God, I know. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You’re not mine to keep in a box.”

“Fuck, Remus.” Sirius’ voice got rough, despite himself. “I’m not here against my will. This is all I’ve ever wanted for as long as I can remember. I love you and I’m here because I want to be.”

Slowly, Remus opened his eyes. A flood of tears fell out, coating the soft glisten from a few stray drops that sneaked through earlier. But Remus seemed unfazed, his gaze locked on Sirius. His lips parted and his breath hitched in the way inhales occur right before you begin to speak, and Sirius waited, but no words ever arrived. For a moment, their entire world was eye contact. 

The Remus began to move, sliding the hand still on Sirius’ upper arm up to meet Sirius’ on his face. Fingers entwined, he gently lifted their hands together and he moved into Sirius, resting his forehead against Sirius’ chest. Sirius snaked an arm around his waist; he could now both hear and feel the small sobs as they left Remus. The realization that it had been years since he had seen Remus crying like this (it was when he told Sirius and James about his bite) urged Sirius to clutch Remus impossibly closer into him. He rested his chin atop Remus’ hair. 

From across the room, a space sang out to him. In the same way he saw himself on his bed, he saw himself there, too, but this time crumbled into a ball and sobbing into open palms. 

_Sirius could feel the touch before it landed on his skin; Remus radiated warmth, so whenever he was near, it was like a constant buzz hitting Sirius regardless of how far away that tawny skin actually was._

_“Hey,” he whispered. “Hey, look at me.” Red eyes met hazel ones. “Are you okay?”_

_Sirius let his head fall while it nodded slightly. Remus’ other hand touched Sirius’ other shoulder, and it was as if he was trying to hug Sirius; he couldn’t though, not with Sirius crouched forwards the way he was. But it was enough, just his fingertips. The heels of his hands. His voice. Strong. Calming. Soft._

And then the sentences that saved him. Sirius shook in the memory of it and, suddenly, he knew exactly what he had to do. 

With all the gentleness in the world, he detached from Remus, just enough so they could look at one another once more but not so Remus thought he was trying to escape (how Remus could think escape was ever right, Sirius would never understand; all he wanted was Remus and nothing could change that). Red eyes met brown ones. Then, he spoke. Strongly, calmingly, softly. 

“You’re going to be okay, Remus. Everything will be okay.” 

A loving look twisted itself across Remus’ face and Sirius knew Remus completely understood. When James walked in minutes later, their forms still laid intertwined, the crisp sunshine of midmorning hiding nothing at all.


End file.
